The Gate of the Elder Gods
by RogerD
Summary: The SGC retrieve the artefact, and a Prior comes through the Stargate. Kal-El is rescued, and a Taelon grave discovered. The new Gate is opened and they discover real Olympus.
1. The Ark of God

Chapter 1 - The Ark of God

New York 1999

Connor stood by the grave holding the collection of flowers. "I'm sorry old friend", he remarked, eyes full of sadness at the passing of yet another friend. He placed the bouquet reverently upon gravestone. The sky got darker and a flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a peel of thunder.

"Great rain, just what I need." Looking at the sky imploringly, _a little rain never hurt an immortal_ he thought, continuing to kneel by the graveside. The sudden downpour resembled a tropical rainstorm more than anything else; drenching Connor despite the raincoat, plastering the hair to his head. The immortal sighed, "So long Clark" he said. "We had some good times, though didn't we?" he asked rhetorically knowing an answer would not be forth coming.

Slowly Connor stood as rain continued to run down his face in a torrent, dripping off his chin. His friend had never been human yet he had possessed all the appearance and mannerisms of someone who was all _too human_; caring for ordinary people _a big heart_ in ways others didn't. _He was a hero_ the immortal reflected sadly, the loss of a great man.

Rising slowly and despite eternal youth, he felt old but not like old people were supposed to, this was different somehow…… _not emotionally_ he reflected, _it was more than that – spiritually_? He idly wondered whether Methos or Ramirez had ever felt that way despite their overwhelming curiosity as the world had changed around them.

"At least you have the peace I have always craved" he mused out loud.

New York 1939

Professor Jones sat at his desk and thoughtfully stroked his chin with his right hand. Since the Government had taken the Ark of the Covenant, sealed it in a crate and stored it in some huge warehouse there were some anomalous feeling that went with it. He felt _bad_, not because of the religious implications or anything like that but more to do with them being as paranoid and thirsty for power as the Nazi's and knew it was an accident waiting to happen as they would doubtlessly either kill themselves or a nearby city, wiping it off the map entirely. With the dread he felt, sweat broke out across his forehead. _The deaths would be on his hands, his conscience for only he, Indiana, no, Henry Jones Junior had given it to them. But the question was how to get it back?_ Tapping the desk irritably, building rhythm, tapping harder and harder the angrier he got.

There was a knock at the door and he hoped it was Marcus otherwise it would be a student asking for help with the homework. Groaning inwardly and repressing a shudder of another female student attempting to seduce, or worse yet 'throw' themselves in his direction like they were bait on a fishing line; in the hopes that the fish, 'Indy' would bite. He'd never been interested in naïve girls and had always preferred an experienced woman. What disturbed him more was the last debacle with Elsa Sneider and his Father and suppressed another shudder.

Henry Jones Junior was awoken from his reverie by another knock. "Indy!"

The sound of a familiar voice, one he would recognise anywhere as belonging to Marcus, "Come!" he shouted, glad it was no one else. As much as he liked to pretend to be sociable, he wasn't and preferred to spend time alone reading or thinking _almost like dad;_ he thought and stopped; _no, I am turning into my dad!_

"Marcus" he said, "What brings you here?"

"Indy" Marcus replied. "I've arranged the meeting for the recovery of that object we….er….discussed"

"Very good Marcus" Indy replied jovially, even though he had asked Marcus to arrange the meeting weeks ago, in truth until this minute Indiana was never actually going to go through with it. "Who am I meeting?" he inquired and saw the way Marcus looked at him, and knew it betrayed worry and concern; and in truth it worried him immensely for it was an incredibly risky action to steal 'the Ark' back from the American Government, but _the question was where to store it after?_

"A man called David Carruthers at 2pm tomorrow" replied Marcus passing him a piece of paper, "Here's the address", he watched Henry Jones Junior unfold the paper and hoped neither were being duped, but only time would tell.

"Thanks Marcus"

The man known as David Carruthers arrived early for the appointment and sat drinking a cup of coffee, reading the paper intermittently. "Idiots!" he cursed knowing another World War was on the way, all the signs were there unless mankind managed to stop the chain of events that appeared to be unfolding. He'd fought in many wars and most were the same, at least until the First World War in which everything had changed. No longer were you looking the enemy in eye; but using machine guns capable of almost cutting a man in half at five hundred yards, explosions capable of killing dozens in one go. The casualties had been horrendous, _this one would be worse, much worse_. He was also a little tired having only just recently flown back to America from attending a friends' birthday party in England - Evelyn O'Connell had thrown a surprise party for her husband Rick. Unable to have children himself, yet he marvelled at how much Alex was like his parents, Rick and Evelyn; it was almost like he possessed the best attributes from parents.

They had met in Japan about four years ago searching for a chapter in a book. The legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi who was known for the Book of Five Rings, but a missing and hitherto unknown chapter called the Sixth Ring which had discussed the attainment of supernatural powers. While there both had told Connor about their dealings with the Mummy Imhotep, the immortal had been incredulous at first but had eventually believed them.

The sunshine was abruptly blocked which disturbed his revelry. The male figure was wearing a brown leather jacket, brown hat, white shirt and beige trousers which presented a somewhat roguish look – _must be a hit with the ladies_ David thought absently.

"David Carruthers?" inquired the figure adjusting his Fedora,

"Yes I am" he replied and extended a hand in greeting,

"I'm Indiana Jones", and he took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly. Professor Jones evaluated the man sitting at the table. His eyes were set back very deep within his skull and seemed to reflect some kind of hidden strength.

"I was supposed to be meeting Henry Jones and you don't look like him" he remarked.

The archaeologist cracked a half smile which had the effect of making the smile look crooked. "I am Henry Jones" he answered automatically, "Junior. The other you're referring to is my father". David could now see similarities with the man's father who he had known quite well, even resembling a friend of his long since dead. "Sit down" he acknowledged and began to neatly fold the paper placing it on the table. "Can I get you anything?" he asked politely.

"Cup of coffee?" requested Henry Jones Junior. David beckoned the waiter over and ordered two more cups of coffee.

"So what brings you to needing my services?"

Indiana took a deep breath, "I need you to help me acquire a rare artefact" he whispered. "You don't work for the Government do you?" 'Indy' asked, watching for any signs of deception. David showed no emotion and raised a hand to gesticulate. "Let's just say me and Government don't exactly see eye to eye" he answered in a slight Scottish brogue. "What is it you hope to acquire?" The waiter walked over nonchalantly carrying two cups of coffee and set them both in the centre of the table. Leaning forward he took one of new cups. "Thank you" said Indiana to the waiter. "Let's just say it is better you don't know", he said, "For now".

David appeared to consider the comment as the pleasant side melted like butter. "I don't think so", and began to stand. "Good day Doctor Jones" he remarked frostily.

Very briefly he saw something very nasty behind David's eyes, a ruthlessness that wasn't there before, a man not to be taken lightly, yet eyes that also held compassion not a moment ago. Suspecting that negotiation might be necessary he gestured for David to sit. "Please", and watched as his guest sat down once more. "I really want to tell you but it might be dangerous" he said in a conciliatory manner.

"I don't scare that easy. But you have an extremely good reputation Doctor Jones, so why don't you just give me the details"

"So do you" he countered and pulled out a piece of paper which he handed to David. "Tonight at the docks, ten o'clock there's a warehouse. The details are on there."

David had arrived early, like usual, and stayed hidden, a basic strategy proposed by Miyamoto Musashi in his book the Five Rings, and by appearing to arrive late, it allowed the user to scout the local area, find the best hiding places and ensure that no ambushes were taking place. He saw the legendary archaeologist turn around a corner, arriving in the same clothes as before carrying some kind of duffle bag over his shoulder. "I was afraid you were not going to turn up" he said reproachfully stepping out of the shadows.

Indiana breathed a sigh of relief, recognising the voice of David Carruthers. He cast a watchful eye down the alleyways looking for guards of any kind. "I wouldn't miss this for the world. We're in luck" he said, "no guards"

David couldn't see any obvious traps or people laying in wait either and that disturbed him. "So tell me what are we stealing?"

'Indy' replied without any hint of sarcasm, "The Ark of the Covenant", surprised when David showed no outward signs of alarm.

"You are joking right?" he attested. "I mean what kind of idiot would give the American Government something like that?"

Indiana looked almost hurt.

"Please don't tell me you did?"

"What was I supposed to do? Give it back to the Nazi's?" he replied reproachfully, yet his words carried a terseness to them.

"Please tell me you have somewhere it can be stored when we've recovered it other than your living room?" David retorted, and tried to suppress a groan when Indiana walked down a dark alleyway in silence.

They searched for the correct warehouse, both checking the numbers on nearby warehouses, "There!" David pointed jubilantly.

"Let's go". As they reached the side of the building, they began searching for entrances and it was 'Indy' who found the side door. "You any good at picking locks?"

"A friend of mine, Amanda, taught me everything I know" he replied ruefully, "She has a great deal of experience", and pulling a small knife from his pocket began to carefully working on the lock. He gently pulled the door open, "Got it!"

The duo went inside - both were taken back at how many items were in identical boxes. David knew better to ask which box the item was in when Doctor Jones jaw dropped and almost hit the floor. "You have no idea which box it's in do you?"

Indiana tried to hide his astonishment, "What ever gives you that idea?" He looked at row after row of box, "Let's split up" he suggested and began to walk off down an isle until a hand grasped his shoulder. "We're not alone" said David. "Someone is in here with us" He adjusted his Fedora and opening the bag, placed his gun and whip at his side. "How can you tell?"

"It's a feeling, trust me". Both set off down the same row, watching carefully for their pursuer. After the tenth isle they became a little more fractious, impatience getting the better of them. "This is hopeless"

"Rick told me about you" said 'Indy' talkatively.

David looked up abruptly, "He did?"

'Indy' saw David pull up sharply. "It's close". Indiana really had no idea where it was in here and did not understand how David could tell but knew only that he was holding out on some information. Both turned a corner and found themselves facing another wooden box but what set it apart from the others was that it was surrounded by dead animals and the American logo had somehow been burnt off; as though something did not approve of it.

"That's it" said David confidently. Henry Jones Junior suddenly became suspicious of David and was almost ready to reach for his gun.

"Is it heavy" David inquired. It was then their shadow became visible; he was a man about six feet tall or so, quite well built carrying a camera, muscles seemed to bulge inside his suit. Drawing his gun 'Indy' pointed it at their pursuer.

"Come on down" he barked watching as the figure climbed down across the boxes with ease, not even out of breath.

"A reporter?" David asked seeking confirmation.

A deep voice replied, "Yes I am"

"Who are you?"

The deep voice resonated in the warehouse strangely. "Clark" he answered extending a hand affably recognising the renowned Archaeologist Doctor Jones immediately. "What are you looking for?" inquired David shaking hands.

"Proof that the Government is hiding information from us" he began looking around in awe, "And I'd certainly say this quantifies wouldn't you?" Clark asked rhetorically taking snapshots, the flash providing extra light. "Should I ask what you are looking for?" he eyed the duo suspiciously.

"Believe me you don't want know" replied David taking hold of one corner of the crate.

"There are guards approaching" said Clark who had never been one for being loquacious.

Two men in dark suits appeared to find David and 'Indy' dragging a crate noisily across the floor. "What do you think you are doing?" said the dark suited man on the left, both drew revolvers pointing them at the trio. "Come one" shouted David in exasperation. Both were out of breath and red in the face.

Another appeared behind the men in dark suits, but he seemed far more sinister carrying an 'air' of death around him like a suit of armour. One of the Government agents turned around, "What the?" he exclaimed, never completing the sentence as a two foot blade speared him through the chest, blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. The Agent began to slump, his hands sought furiously to grasp the assailant in an attempt to stay upright and prevent the blade from penetrating more deeply into his chest, a futile gesture, only to slump to the floor dying in an ever growing pool of blood.

The second agent turned around quickly, unfortunately it was still too slow as another blade appeared from the sinister mans other sleeve, embedding itself through his skull. The dark man stepped forward to reveal his sinister inhuman visage. Where flesh should be there was metal, dark and foreboding; and where eyes should reside there was only dark glass like two monocles staring out at the world.

"A robot?" exclaimed David. Another stepped impossibly from the shadows, to stand behind the 'steel man'. He was as bald as an egg with a dark bushy beard in long flowing robes like a magician. "I will take the Ark of the Covenant" commanded the bald man.

Indiana took a half step. "Over my dead body" he disputed. "It leaves here with us"

The bald man laughed, "Its shame the Fuhrer does not share your sentiments"

"Nazi's" exclaimed the Archaeologist, "I hate you guys!"

"Kill them!"

The 'steel man' walked forward with the grace of a dancer towards Doctor Jones who shot him between the eyes with his revolver. The shot had no effect as the bullet bounced off steel.

He was intercepted by David Carruthers who reached inside his jacket to reveal a wickedly sharp Katana. "I don't think so" he challenged. The 'steel man' swung his steel blades with amazing skill, as metal clashed and sparks flew but no matter what he did or how hard he tried a Masumune blade blocked his every move.

"No this is impossible!" exclaimed the 'bald man' as David kicked the 'steel man' in chest; knocking him sprawling to the floor in a clatter of steel limbs.

"I take it you would be Rasputin" acknowledged David, "and your lackey here is Karl Kroenen?" A friend of his, Trevor Bruttenholm, had encountered them previously, both having been involved in the Occult Wars against Hitler. A dozen other men streamed past Rasputin all holding firearms, one who shot David directly in the chest, a perfect shot through the heart. Blood appeared on his chest and back, but he did not fall. "I have a hard time dying"

Clark did not like the situation at all, but whoever these 'thieves' were, it was better than letting Nazi's get their 'Prize'. To others he appeared human, but originating from a 10 gravity world and now living on a one gravity world made him far stronger and faster than normal humans. His maximum speed was about 120 mph, but in this confined space managed sixty.

Both 'Indy' and David saw the flesh on Clark's face ripple like water on a lake, as bullets impacted with a harder object, squashed flat, only to drop to the floor, useless.

"Ow!" shouted Clark in annoyance, for despite his skin being tougher and thicker than normal humans it still hurt when he got shot; for humans it would translate to being slapped incredibly hard.

"Can you pick that up?" asked 'Indy' quickly looking at the crate with a huge burn mark on. What Clark thought he meant was can you carry it on your own to which the answer would yes, unless it was made of some kind of ultra-dense material; what Indiana actually meant was would you help me carry it, and so was flabbergasted when this reporter picked the object above his head like a sack of potatoes.

Indiana let off several shots, watching as Nazi's dropped with each rapport of his pistol. When the gun was empty, he placed the revolver in its holster. The whip cracked louder than any gunshot, snaring Rasputin around the wrist. David moved around Clark and let loose with a serious of blistering attacks both unarmed and with the Katana, cutting Nazi's to pieces, attacking with a speed and ferocity born of decades of dedication. Rasputin knew he could not win this one and backed into a shadow as Indiana's whip fell to the floor; vanishing to even Clark's para-human vision.

Karl Kroenen tried once more to stand up to the onslaught and failed, losing an arm in the process and decided to use another soldier who came to help as an opportunity to escape into the night.

An hour later they arrived at his home. David had not wanted to show them the hidden rooms but had no choice if he was to hide the Ark of the Covenant safely. Behind a false wall which led to another anteroom full of personal effects, and further back was another room as yet empty which was where the Ark was placed. The Archaeologist had told them what he knew about the powerful artefact and how it had wiped the Nazi's off the face of the Earth when it was opened, both were slightly sceptical however, and yet were taken back by the detail given.

Both Indiana and Clark had taken the opportunity to examine the photos and had been told that they were "Family portraits". 'Indy' remained doubtful but looked more closely; it being impossible for so many members of his family looked identical. _It cannot be_ he thought, but Clark voiced his thoughts out loud, "They're all the same person".

"It is, as though he's lived a dozen lifetimes" the Archaeologist replied, "But I could ask a similar question of you lifting hundreds of pounds above your head like that".

Clark fell silent.

"Who are you both? What are you both?" Indiana asked. "You were shot through the heart" he remarked pointing at David and walked towards him, and quickly ripped the shirt open to expose a perfectly healed chest, any wounds long since healed. "These are not family portraits, they're off you!" he seethed. "Tell me I'm wrong!"

The man that was David Carruthers sighed audibly. "It's true. What do you know of Scottish Highland legends?"

"What has that to do with you?" he inquired, "Which one specifically? There are lots, most with no basis in fact"

"There is one about a man who could not die".

On familiar ground he smiled, "Aaaah that old fable about a man from Glenfinnan who was supposedly killed in battle but did not die, about 1530 I think?"

David Carruthers smiled, "Not bad" he answered. "1536 actually" he corrected.

"My name is Connor Macleod I was born in Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel in 1518 and I cannot die"

"Similar to Jesus?" asked Clark remembering his early school years.

"Heh, heh, heh. Jesus was an immortal but not one of us, goes by the name of John nowadays, I think" he answered having met the immortal Cro-Magnon who was even older than Methos, he was supposedly born about 14,000 years old or more. Methos and John had both been disciplines of Buddha. He had thought about it for a few hundred years and his message misinterpreted and changed by Church until modern day Christianity had come about, a sore point with the Ancient.

Thinking he was joking eventually realised Connor wasn't. _This truth would have destroyed his father, who fervently believed Jesus was the son of god, luckily he was a little more flexible however. _"You're serious, he's still around?"

Clark seemed somewhat perplexed and sought to confirm the apparently obvious again. "All these are you though?" he asked

Connor looked at all the pictures, many fond memories, yet tinged with pain, _loss._ "Yes they are. Would it surprise you know much of history is wrong?"

It was Indiana who turned around feeling a sense of wonder, _a man who was actually there_, it was dizzying. "History is written by the Conquerors, but you're referring to something more personal"

"For instance I was in Japan in the 16th Century" he said matter-of-factly, and took his Masamune blade out of his jacket. "This" he said, "Was created in 593 BC"

Clark who had studied very hard as a child knew that should be impossible, humans did not possess the technology to forge folded blades until far later. "That is impossible" he said.

"This was given to me by my mentor Tak Ne who was born in 896 BC and tutored me under the name of Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez". Again on familiar ground 'Indy knew that name as a Chief Metallurgist King Charles V.

Connor looked at Clark and walked to a table and pulled a dusty bottle from a rack which he opened. He poured three glasses of brandy and used this opportunity to change topics, passing each a glass. 'Indy' took a sip, "Smooth" he remarked.

"I should hope so" said Connor, "it's about two hundred years old".

Having never drunk any alcohol this old Clark was determined not to rush it and let his enhanced sense of taste savour the old brandy.

"May I?" asked 'Indy'. He took the proffered bottle from the immortal, examining it with a practiced archaeological eye. "This is amazing" he said garrulously. "I've never seen so many priceless artefacts in one room. These belong in a museum".

Connor took another sip of _decent _brandy, letting the dark liquid roll down his throat. "Not likely, left to rot by a bunch overstuffed librarians in suits".

Clark smiled at the analogy.

"So tell me how you were able to carry such a weight above your head?" Connor asked deciding to change topic.

Clark who knew his time had come, "Like you I share a secret heritage. I am from the planet Krypton and my name is Kal-El", and he explained all about his home exploding and his subsequent journey to Earth.

"Wait a minute" said 'Indy', "I recognise that name"

"Someone learnt my secret once, misunderstood my explanations and all kinds of nonsense arose" enunciated Clark. "That the Earth's sun gave me strength, endowed me ridiculous feats, and that damnable costume", smiled the Kryptonian glad to eventually share his secret with people who would remain silent. "Those infernal comics" cursed Clark. "They have a lot to answer for. You have no idea what I went through" he said, and the saw the sadness in Connor's eyes. "Maybe you do"

"Aren't you supposed to able to fly?" jibed Connor good-naturedly.

Clark shook his head sadly and explained that Earth was a one gravity world whereas Krypton was a ten gravity world. Therefore he would appear to be ten times stronger and faster here. He then went onto to explain that on his home planet of Krypton, humans would be unable to stand, barely able to crawl. Kal-El explained that is why he appeared to be bullet-proof, thickened skin able to withstand greater amounts of damage.

"So where most humans can jump three or four feet high, and with a huge run maybe manage a long jump of fifteen to twenty; now times that by ten – that's why people thought I could fly". Both Connor and Indiana nodded sagely taking in all the details. He further explained he possessed a form of levitation which coupled with his jumping ability led to flying stories.

After hearing all this Indiana felt positively redundant in the room, Connor piped up as though reading his mind, "From what I know of your adventures most mortals would be long dead; somebody up there sure likes you" Connor said reassuringly. Indiana wasn't sure what to be more worried about, that he was in room with an immortal and an alien or that some Deity was looking out for him.

Clark turned to Connor, "Count your self lucky no one wrote about your life" he said.

Secret Government Lab 1998

Doctor Theodore Morris was working on the remains of the Kryptonian attempting to create some kind of super soldier for the Government, one of his rivals Maggie Walsh was attempting to do the same in Sunnydale using the DNA of pre-humanoid life. He had little time to give it much thought, as he was busy mapping the musculature of the alien skeleton, as it was not connected the way humans were and may well have been the cause for his great strength.

A man with dark hair walked in wearing a military uniform, "Well Dr Morris"

He looked up surprised by the interruption and his visitor. "Almost done Colonel Maybourne"

New York 1999

Connor looked once more at the grave marked 'Clark Kent, beloved husband of Lois Lane. A Superman', a fitting epitaph, and his passion had helped spur Connor on during the World War II to help Methos create the B.P.R.D, to hold all dangerous artefacts away from prying eyes or those eager to seek their secrets. It was the final resting place for the Ark of the Covenant, Spear of Longinus and a Crystal Skull.

Authors notes.

My main problem is deciding a damn title. Grrrrrr!


	2. Gateway to Heaven

Chapter 2 – Gateway to Heaven

Pyramids of Giza 1950

Dr Catherine Langford hated the Egyptian heat, it was hot constantly day and night, and the only redeeming thing about night-time was that the sun wasn't melting everything, you just had to cope with the humidity. But coupled with the spiders, scorpions and everything else made it a living hell, not place she would live. She was about to wipe the sweat from her brow _but what would be the point? More would only replace it seconds later. _

Dozens were busy digging, which according to the tablets they were looking for another ring shaped object, similar to the one she had found years ago, but this was far, far older and in all likelihood predated it. It was called the 'Gate of the Elder Gods', able to take one to heaven or hell. Sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like had she been a baker, or a surgeon; but truthfully she was squeamish so the latter was unlikely. Shouting could be heard above the background noise of hundreds of people digging, and leaving the sanctity of her tent went to see what the problem was.

Flicking back the flap Catherine saw two men wearing official looking uniforms, _but not Germans_ she thought sending a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens – _not that she believed, or did she? There was a belief in something_. All Government agents seemed to be shaped from the same clay, usually medium build, pale and otherwise quite unremarkable; little did she know that is how the US Government liked them, to be forgettable. All were able to fade into the crowd and be missed. Something they both did at this moment was sweat profusely though as neither had loosened their shirts, or suits in any way; even the locals wore loose fitting clothing to allowing the skin to breathe and sweat.

"Doctor Catherine Langford" the one on the left said, "We must ask that you cease this activity immediately and come with us!" Even in this heat none would accuse her of being ugly, as she carried a radiance that shone from inside, no matter her external appearance. The beginning of wrinkles near her eyes creased in annoyance.

"On whose authority?" she asked indignant.

The man on the right spoke and removed some identification, "We're Secret Service Ma'am" he said knowing it to be a lie. "My self and Agent Spender" he said watching as the latter lit a cigarette. "Well we've been tasked with returning you to the United States as we have reason to believe certain Opposing Powers may seek to detain you". Almost immediately she went from morally outraged to outright concerned.

"Would you be kind enough to come with us?" asked Agent Spender looking at his partner Agent Mulder.

Both Agents recognised the whistling noise of a German grenade flying through the air and dragged Catherine to the ground quite roughly. It was then a massive explosion rocked the sands. She coughed and spluttered as her face hit ground; mouth full of sand, spitting out as much of the foul dry substance out as possible, knowing only some liquid refreshment would help finish the job.

"Are you okay?" inquired Bill quickly checking over his shoulder for any danger.

"Let's go" said his partner, and grabbed her by the elbow. "Quickly" he hissed in warning, dragging her over the crest of the sand dune. "We gotta move". Try as he might, it was almost like carrying a dead weight as she was obviously still in shock. It felt more like a dream and as hard as she tried her legs just did not belong to her, it felt like they were someone else's. Another 'crack' of a pistol caused her to scream in fright as sand jumped in the air near their feet.

"Quick, back" roared Agent Spender.

Half a dozen troops came over the crest of the dune; all bearing armbands with the Swastika emblazoned across it and sub-machine guns.

"We'll take her if you don't mind?" said an officer with dark hair and glasses. He held out his hand, beckoning Catherine to walk across to him. "Please Frauleine, let us not have more of a scene than we have to", he asked kindly, almost expectantly. "Mmmmm?"

When she refused to come and cowered behind the American agents, he gestured and the soldiers all pointed their weapons menacingly. Another soldier walked up, obviously the subordinate, but far more memorable as he bore a twin scars across his face; almost like he had been mauled by lion or tiger.

"Come now!" he said as a lizard like tongue slipped between his seemingly human lips. Both agents backed up, as did Catherine Langford. "Doctorsssss" hissed the lizard man excitedly.

"Control your self!" shouted the officer in charge at the subordinate. "None of us wish to draw attention to ourselves in this way!"

It was then both agents realised that none of the soldiers were human and both knew the Syndicate would have to be informed and plans drawn into action, if they survived. "What are you?" asked Catherine cowering, fear evident in the shakiness of her hands and voice.

"It does not matter Doctor, come with us or they die". She looked at the two men, scared beyond belief but did not want them to perish _besides if they escape maybe they can get help_ she hoped. "I will come", as she stepped forward bravely an involuntary tremble ran down her spine.

"Good" said the subordinate, "We wish your help to locate what you would call the 'Gate of Elder Gods". They were obviously unaware that she was digging for the same thing here, near to where the Chapp'ai was found almost twenty years ago. Another thought occurred to her that they knew it wasn't here, which made her all the more worried and curious if they had information no one else did. Without warning two soldiers walked behind the agents and knocked them unconsciousness. "What?" muttered one before darkness claimed them both.

"They will not be harmed" said the officer in glasses. "Come". They walked towards a jeep several dunes over and she vanished into the desert.

Doctor Jones was teaching a class Egyptology, _yet another_ he thought. When all was said and done it was one of his favourites; the least being Greek, there was just something he did not like about it. What Indiana and most scholars did not know is that Earth had in the past been visited by various space travelling aliens that had formed the basis of every mythology. He sighed silently waiting for someone to give an intelligible answer otherwise he was likely to be getting a lot of visits before the homework was handed in.

"Pyramids" said one student.

He grimaced. "Let me put it another way" he began, "if I said to you what was the first major construction to be built?"

"Ziggurats" piped up a fat student in white shirt with dollops of melted chocolate on.

"No". Dozens of hands were raised and somehow he sensed that no one would have the correct answer. _Sure they could say it was Ziggurats or the Pyramids, many had argued that over the years_, but it was not the most important thing. "Temples!" shouted another.

"Vomitorium" suggested another student humorously.

He had to smile at that even though it was wrong. "Without them there would have been no Anthony and Cleopatra" he suggested hoping it might prompt the class, otherwise all the homework would be marked down as having the wrong conclusions. Sometimes archaeology was all about perspective.

"Roads!" shouted a female student with dark hair, who had for weeks been 'hitting on' on the famous archaeologist. Suddenly the bell rang and they all began to pack away their books without a care in the world.

"Don't forget your assignment due in on Monday" he prompted. "How did the most important invention affect the ancient and modern world" he shouted above the din knowing at least one person might give the correct answer. Straightening his glasses two men in dark suits were visible outside the door, _government_ he thought. _Wonder what they want? _Next to them was his buffer, Marcus Brody. Both agents wore hats and were carrying long coats over their left arms and wearing particularly awful ties. Grimacing again he beckoned them all in.

"Marcus" he said. "What can I do for you?" He put on his best fake smile.

Marcus smiled back, recognising Indiana's 'I'm tolerating these idiots' sort of look.

"Let me introduce Agent Spender and Agent Mulder" he said by way of introduction. 'Indy' shook hands with both of them, fake smile still plastered to his features.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

It was Agent Mulder who spoke first, "What do you know of the 'Gate of Heaven'?"

Indiana shook his head. "Not a clue" he answered genuinely as he really had never heard of such an artefact. His partner then took over, "Aaaah I see. Perhaps your expertise then?" he inquired. "We believe it may be in Giza somewhere"

"The foremost expert on Egyptology is Doctor Langford, you should go ask her"

"It is your colleague Catherine Langford who has been kidnapped by unknown persons while partway through a dig for this very item" said Mulder more urgently, savouring the half-truth _or was it half lie?_ Either they were extraterrestrials or something else, something the newly formed Syndicate were working on but right now they needed expertise and Doctor Jones was the best available.

"We continued the dig as a mater of course and found nothing at her original site; and it is our belief that the Germans have more precise information and we would rather it did not fall into their hands"

He really wondered why it always happened to him; strange and mysterious artefacts always seemed to gravitate towards him – first the Ark of the Covenant, Lingams of Shiva, Holy Grail, the Ark again; _what's next _he thought _a Crystal skull? _Sometimes he begrudged stealing artefacts from the Nazi's, or the American Government as that is not why he got involved in archaeology in the first place, it was to rediscover the hidden mysteries of the ancient world, their knowledge and wisdom and place it on display for all to see. Henry Jones Junior felt his stomach rumble again and in fact it had been ceaseless in its moaning all morning. Quickly checking his watch, 2pm, _no wonder he was hungry_.

"Mind if I get some lunch first?" he asked. "I'm starved". Ten minutes later after a sandwich and a cup of coffee he made his way upstairs, only to be told by Marcus they were waiting outside. With a "Good luck" he left the building and entered the waiting car.

"Where are we going to?" he asked politely.

"Not far" replied Mulder who tapped the back of the drivers' seat, giving the signal to drive.

An eternally young Scotsman sat in a café waiting, and was considering ordering food if his friend was going to be much longer, he was forty minutes late as it was - _where in the hell are you Clark? _Cursed Connor silently, it was then a familiar heavily muscled shape emerged from a taxi. Clark ran over to the café dodging people on the pavement.

"Sorry I'm late" he huffed slightly out of breath, which in this case was genuinely true. "I thought you were never going to get here" said the immortal. "I was in two minds whether to order or go hunt my own food to pass the time" he retorted sarcastically looking at the camera in Clark's hands; "Don't you ever put that down?"

Clark sat down and placed the camera on the table. "A good reporter is ever ready" he said matter-of-factly.

"Some people were born with a silver spoon; I'm sure you were born holding a camera"

Clark smiled and picked up a menu looked into Connor's deep set eyes. "Have you been waiting long?"

"For me not long, for you, maybe a couple of hours" he said continuing to jibe his friend.

"You're enjoying this?" said Clark playing along.

Connor smiled, "Heh, heh, heh. Absolutely", the waitress came and took their order. "So tell me Clark what have you been up to?"

Kal-El leant forward conspiratorially and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Actually there is a rumour that a famous Egyptologist has vanished, supposedly kidnapped and I thought I'd investigate"

"Anyone I may have heard of?" he asked curiously.

"I doubt it. Does the name Catherine Langford mean anything to you?"

"Not really" answered Connor absently. The waitress came over to take their order.

"Are still thinking of opening an antique business?" he asked pleasantly,

"Thinking about enrolling in the army and helping out"

"Today? Can it wait?" inquired Kal-El. "Didn't you say that you could read Egyptian? I could use a translator". The alien hero was referring to Ramirez who before being killed by the Kurgan, the old Egyptian had showed Connor how to transfer knowledge through Quickening and had channelled various bits of information across. The waitress arrived shortly after with their drinks and meals.

Indiana's heart was racing _this is something new_ and straightened his glasses, looking again at the glyphs on the photo's that were taken from a pyramid in Giza. "Well?" asked Mulder impatiently.

"I don't know" he said finally. "This is a completely unknown language"

Spender sat down in irritation, "You mean you need it translating?" While he shared the agents' frustration but without Catherine's notes it could take months but more likely years or decades to even get a half decent translation and told them as much. Mulder walked back in with a large box and handed it to Doctor Jones; inside which was the journal of Doctor Langford. "You had this all along! It would have saved time if you have given it to me straight away" he remarked grumpily.

Mulders' eyes twinkled with humour. "Now where would the fun be in that?" he asked mischievously. "Besides I wanted to be sure you couldn't read it".

Already off to a bad start, _but then the Government always annoyed him_ _a bit like the crash in Roswell_, and frantically slipped a notebook from pocket and began to make notes using the journal as a reference guide.

He barely noticed the agents leave and they did not return. Indiana was only vaguely aware that the night sky was visible or that he was hungry. The work consumed him - and after hour upon hour without pause or break, he pushed his spectacles aside and rubbed the bridge of his nose and his eyes, tiredness finally taking hold. Checking his watch, _5am, no wonder he was shattered. _Slowly packing things away into the box took everything downstairs and caught a cab. It took another forty minutes to get home, and fell asleep instantly on the bed.

There were no dreams that night, chronic fatigue had taken its toll and the archaeologist did not wake until late. The midday sun shone through the window, bathing him in warmth and light like some kind of sleeping angel. "Uuuurgh" he murmured sleepily, turning to examine the bedside clock. Rubbing tired eyes again he went for a quick shower, and nearly fell asleep again. There were welcome aromas coming from downstairs and unless burglars had started cooking breakfast and making coffee, the agents had somehow gained entrance and were waiting patiently.

He dressed quickly and went downstairs to find both agents in the kitchen as he suspected. "Do you usually cook breakfast after breaking an entering?"

"I heard how long you stayed to last night" answered Agent Spender "and thought you might want some breakfast?"

"Thanks," grimaced the archaeologist taking both plate and cup. He tucked into breakfast greedily, finally realising how hungry he was. Toast followed and as his mind slowly shrugged off the fatigue that had plagued him last night, he came to a conclusion _they're after something as no agents are ever this nice_.

"Well?" asked Mulder expectantly. "Any progress?"

Pulling the box from behind the sofa 'Indy' opened it and extracted some notes. "Actually I have" he remarked. "It seems that Catherine may have been digging in the wrong place"

"Really! What makes you so sure?"

"One of the tablets" he said showing the photograph, "appears to be missing the upper left portion and if I make a few assumptions, then her dig site was in the wrong place which would place it," he quickly got a map of Egypt and marked her original dig site and the new coordinates. "She was digging approximately 500 miles in the wrong direction"

"And you're sure of your current findings?"

"Its archaeology, nothing is sure!" he re-iterated, "But fairly confident, yes!"

"Good, we had hoped as much Doctor Jones. Your flight leaves in 2 hours"

"Great" muttered Indiana, "I just love Egypt"

Both had been summoned to a meeting by the Syndicate and neither would be able to accompany the archaeologist onto the plane. In fact it was the archaeologists' presence at Roswell that had got him selected for this job and although they might have to kill the famed Jones after, they doubted it would be easy as the Nazis had been trying for years, until Hitler's death in 1945.

He was dropped off at the airport by Agents although neither of them accompanied him onto the plane which he thought odd. While boarding the plane he was greeted to a welcome sight, both Connor and Clark were getting on the same flight and he was quite happy to see them.

"Hi, pleased to see you both" said 'Indy' gleefully shaking both Clarks' and Connor's hands. "What are you doing on here? Where are you bound for?"

"Egypt" answered the immortal. "It would a certain intrepid reporter is after a story of a missing Egyptologist and wants my help to read Egyptian"

Smiling at the chance and coincidence that populated his life, "That wouldn't be a Catherine Langford by any chance"

"It would" said Clark. "What do you know and can I have a scoop. Maybe even an interview" he joked.

They sat back to enjoy the flight, as Indiana passed around the information from Langford's personal journals. They slept when they needed as it would be a very long flight with several stopovers.

On the flight they had agreed to cover up and dress like the locals in order to avoid suspicion and to dig at night mainly to avoid the blistering heat of the day; although that was mainly for him as both Connor and Clark would not suffer ill effects as quickly. After landing they quickly obtained the relevant digging equipment and followed the coordinates. After two hours they had not found anything and all thought it strange, and upon consulting the photos 'Indy' was struck by a revelation as though hit by a lightning bolt from heavenly Zeus.

They were only digging one big hole about ten foot square, and if it was anything like something called the Chapp'ai Catherine had found years earlier then a bigger hole would be necessary to locate the circumference of the object. It took almost another two hours of digging until they heard a metallic thud, as the spade impacted with the surrounding metal, and another two to further uncover the ring structure. Both Connor and Indiana were tired while Clark and his 10G Krypton physique was capable of doing more.

"Maybe we should have let Clark dig on his own while we relaxed in deck chairs?"

"You could have suggested that earlier"

Wiping his brow the immortal replied, "Everyone's a critic", and grabbing the water bottle proffered by the Kryptonian and took a deep gulp, and passed it to the archaeologist.

"I cannot believe we dug in the centre first and not around the edges" remarked Clark.

In a dimly lit warehouse hours later the ring was leaning against a wall concealed behind dozens of crates. "Well?" asked Clark like an expectant mother, "what is it?"

Tiredness surrounded Doctor Jones like an aura, muscles sorer than they had been in a long while, and a bicep begin to cramp, painfully. Sometimes, only sometimes he thought that maybe he was getting too old for gallivanting around the world searching for treasures – and unfortunately had no son to continue the Jones tradition. He needed a shower and ran a hand along the metal letting them feel all the outline of the lettering. "I haven't the faintest idea"

"Pity" moaned the immortal. "Do you want me to put in the same place as the Ark?" he inquired.

'Indy' was curious as Connor had never actually told him where the Ancient Treasure was located and thought it a salient time to raise the question. "So where did you put the Ark, some hidden storage space?"

"Hardly" he replied. "I gave it to the BPRD" remarked Connor nonchalantly.

"Who are they?" inquired Clark noticing that he beat 'Indy' to the question, and whose mouth was still hanging open.

He had arranged for the Ark of the Covenant to be placed in secure storage at the newly formed and very secretive Government agency called the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence, or BPRD for short. They dealt with any threats that were outside of the normal Government Agencies, keeping whatever they found out a secret as a majority of the Government were not ready for the information or secrets they found out. There was no way it could remain in his home for too long, it 'stunk' of Quickening and it always felt like there was an immortal waiting when he got home. And as Connor explained Indiana Jones got angrier and angrier.

"I said no Governments" he fumed. "I didn't steal it from them for you to give it right back!" Indiana was furious and had trusted Connor to look after the relic and not place into the hands of people who couldn't be trusted with its safekeeping. _Can I trust him?_ Thought the archaeologist, _how could he do such a thing? _'Indy' knew he'd have to steal the Ark back and hide this ring device, somewhere safe.

Connor sighed. "It's not like that" he replied defensively. "They hold quite a few artefacts the rest of the Government will never know about, like the Spear of Longinus"

Henry Jones Junior was incredulous, "They have the Spear?" he gasped.

"Who do you think stole it from Hitlers' men in the first place?" answered Connor remembering the moment well. It had helped turn the tide of the Second World War.

Connor was always claiming that he, Kal-El was the 'real hero' it was turning out that perhaps the immortal had a somewhat heroic attitude himself, despite a somewhat self effacing and modest exterior shell which surrounded him like a shield. Over the years both had spent a lot of time talking and if it wasn't for Connor, Clark would probably never have married Lois. She had kept her maiden name for writing purposes and had even played with a double-barrelled surname which no matter how hard she had tried never sounded quite right; _Kent-Lane, Lane-Kent, _but among friends had become Mrs Lois Kent which made Clark smile.

His tirade interrupted, "What are you smiling about?" shouted Dr Jones

"I was just thinking about how it took Lois months to give up the idea of a double-barrelled surname" he answered still smirking. It seemed his reverie had brought an abrupt end to the argument, _thankfully_.

"Look" said Connor, also enjoying the brief moment of reminiscence. He remembered that Lois had discussed her surname problems over a Cognac, when both had come over for dinner about five years ago. "Why don't you visit the BPRD" suggested Connor. "And if you're not happy I'll help you store them wherever you think is safest". Immortality could be damn lonely sometimes and despite friends like Duncan, Methos and Kastigir; it all came down to one thing 'There can only be One', aware that any immortal friends could turn on him at any moment either with a lust for power or a Dark Quickening or perhaps other reasons. He would always mourn their passing but it was important to retain a 'core' of mortal friends that you could trust with your secrets and your life and so like any relationship compromise was imperative.

The Kryptonian face creased, looking towards the door of the warehouse. "Someone's coming" he whispered.

The door opened and in walked a man wearing a suit and tie, and judging from appearances had no trouble at all in this heat. His sandy coloured hair and pale skin showed no signs of sun damage, or tanning in any way. "Aaaaah Doctor Jones" he exclaimed gleefully walking towards the trio. "There you are! I see you have discovered the artefact too, excellent!"

His senses screamed danger and that _this man is not to be trusted_, so he leant forward ready for anything. "What can I do for you?" he asked leaving a gap hoping a name would be given, probably not a real one but something. Clark sniffed the air and his alien olfactory senses could tell this man was not human. He had told Connor years ago about the faint trace of ozone the immortal possessed marking him as different to the rest of humanity.

Raising hands in a placating gesture, fingers splayed wide to show no hidden weapons. "Easy" he said reassuringly flashing pearly white teeth. "I don't want any trouble. I want the device and seek to inquire how much the good Doctor here would be willing to part with it for" Connor could see how much the comment angered 'Indy'. "No amount of money" he began, only to be interrupted.

"Perhaps a trade then" he suggested and in an attempt to put the trio more at ease, "Where are my manners?" he said berating himself. "I am Hans Gruber", but did not bother to extend a hand. "You give me the device and I give you the woman"

Doctor Jones angrily took a step forward, "Why you!" Only to have Connor place a restraining arm on his shoulder.

"If I do not report back within a certain time the Fraulein dies!"

Relaxing in Connor's vice like grip, knowing it would be futile to try to out strength the immortal, and with Clark on hand; _no _he thought, _the answer lies in outthinking them_. Deciding to play the game a little bit. "What's to stop you from reneging on the deal and killing her anyway?"

"Nothing Herr Jones, but I would like to think we could handle this like civilised men"

They, the Naga did not have a lot of time and despite Rasputin wanting the gate for his purposes, they had plans of their own - to summon their God, the Great Old One known as Vritra to the Hindus, Typhon to the Greeks and Tiamat to the Sumerians and Babylonians. People had called them all kind of fanciful names over the years, very few having got it right. They were descended from the Dinosaurs millions of years ago, like the Dragons who were their cousins, and possessed no mammalian DNA.

Clark had told both that the Hans was not human, it was a façade designed to fool the unwary and 'Indy' was placing his whip and gun in their usual place while Connor who was unarmed just stood there.

"Shall we?" he suggested, "Best to get there early in case they do a double cross"

"Good idea" agreed Clark. "Connor and I will be decoys and diversions and you rescue Catherine, if things go badly"

"Okay". Walking towards the warehouse the streets were still lively, in fact more so than during the day as it allowed the locals to relax a bit more and not to worry so much about the sun, although it was still incredibly humid as he and 'Indy' were sweating. It was just as well they did arrive early, for Gruber and his entourage were visible walking down a street about two hundred metres away. They slipped into the warehouse through the back door and waited.

Hinges creaked and Gruber walked in with about ten 'men' and Catherine bound and gagged in the middle. "Good Herr Jones you are here!"

The others with Gruber all appeared to be dark skinned and all were wearing local attire carrying unfamiliar looking guns. "I will now take the device" said Gruber and clicking his fingers one of his associates drew the strange sidearm. "And the girl"

"That was not part of the agreement"

Clark saw the weapon and not sure what type of energy weapon it might be, hid his alarm like an actor; shaking his head almost imperceptibly at both Connor and 'Indy'. Taking a step forward attempted to shield them both. "I don't think so" commanded the Kryptonian. "A clean swap, like 'civilised men' was the agreement"

Gruber laughed and it was clear his entourage could barely contain themselves either. "But we're not men" he remarked and before his reptilian tongue could slip between his lips the well built human remarked, "Yes I know, some kind of reptile if I'm not mistaken". His forked tongue hung out of the corner of his mouth in shock and alarm, "How?"

One of the Naga fired his gun and a massive arc of electricity struck Clark directly in the chest. It blew the Kryptonian clear across the room to strike a nearby wall to crack the masonry. His alien high gravity metabolism had conducted the blast without any undue harm and he stood, features betraying the anger he felt. "That won't work on me".

Connor immediately stepped in front of Indiana protectively just as Clark had done, making sure no stray blasts would hurt the mortal. The second blast also hit the immortal in the middle of the chest, as his system absorbed the energy harmlessly. "Or on me" said Connor defiantly. Clark watched dumfounded at a blast that had blown him across the room, to do even less to the immortal – _guess they each had their strengths and weakness_.

The Naga watched in horror as their electron particle beam pistols were almost useless. "What are you?" raged the one who had fired twice. He never had the opportunity to hear a reply as Kal-El leaped across the room, throwing the lizard into a stack of crates. Broken wood and a broken reptilian fell to the floor.

"Now, you take the device and we take Catherine".

All of the Naga 'shed' their human shapes like a snaking sloughing its skin, yet all still continued to appear humanoid except for gaining another six inches in height, lots of muscle mass, scales and sharp incisors. One of the Lizard Men drew a normal pistol and shot Connor again, who grunted in pain. "Neither will that" remarked Connor, "Perhaps we should keep both" he challenged.

"Aaaargh!" screamed what had been Hans Gruber, foolishly charging the Kryptonian who shrugged him off like a jacket that no longer fit. The lizard tumbled among the crates, forehead impacted first with wood and a more than solid floor. Hans struggled to rise as red blood ran in free flowing torrent from a nasty gash, down a scaly face to drip onto the floor.

Another Naga tried to foolishly to sink sharp fangs into Kryptonian flesh which had more tensile strength than steel, teeth exploded and gums ruptured and a backhand silenced its cries of pain. Clark quickly scanned for more opponents. Indiana shot two before they could reach their weapons and then ducked huge claws as another attempted to rake his face. "Damn!" he murmured. He punched the Naga in the mouth using the gun butt which caused an ugly red laceration to appear. It's time abruptly short as Kal-El grabbed it by the shoulder, tossing it like a bowling ball.

A large breeze passed by and turning in time saw a green blur fly through the air to hit a small group of lizards that were standing too close together. A loud crash followed by a tangle of green limbs, yet none rose. After finding the final chapter of Musashi's book entitled 'Sixth Ring' with Rick and Evie, Connor had returned with it, and over the years had begun to master the psychic training manual. It was these minor ESP abilities that compensated for not looking at the target while this was happening and without needing eyes he ducked rapidly to avoid wickedly sharp laws, and executed a counter strike knocking the Naga unconscious.

Henry Jones saw an opportunity, running to rescue Catherine and grabbed one of their guns in mid-stride. He jumped on the one holding Dr Langford and it shrugged the archaeologist off as easily as Clark had Hans, the gun clattered to the floor noisily. In seconds it was on him.

Rage overtook the archaeologist as it once or twice before, the worst instance had been in the tunnels with the Thuggees when he had overpowered the much larger opponent. Using unknown and hidden reserves that were rarely tapped he threw the Naga off and began pound it again and again, as blood and teeth exploded from its mouth. Grabbing the archaeologists jaw, claws began to sink into flesh and he ignored the pain. The more it hurt the faster and more powerful his strikes became; although not understanding where this ability came from pressed the advantage nonetheless. Claws and hand went slack, its arm falling impotently to the floor and without he pause untied Catherine who hugged and kissed him passionately.

Clark watched as Henry had not only beaten but completely pulverised his opponent, it lay on the floor, most likely dead as he could hear no heartbeat or respiration. He looked at Connor who mouthed 'later', and helped steady the spent archaeologist, who sagged, leaning on the aliens shoulder for support.

Indiana got back to his suite and collapsed on the bed, not having enough energy to even shower and fell into the deepest slumber of his life. The Kryptonian had offered to look in on Indiana but Connor had recommended against it by saying he was 'suffering physical, mental and psychic exhaustion and will probably not wake until morning', and so with that they had agreed to take up breakfast for in the morning.

In a restaurant Clark, Connor and Catherine Langford sat enjoying dinner. None of whom spoke very much, Catherine was still suffering slightly from shock but had wanted to know why they were not killed by the 'Electric guns' as she called them. Neither had offered an explanation and dinner continued in silence.

He rose slowly from sleep, barely noticing that it was daylight outside and could not remember where he was, and eventually it all came rushing back. It was followed by an incessant banging on the door, "Indy" called a deep penetrating voice. "Open up, we have breakfast!"

Groggily stumbling towards the noise and turning the lock, he opened to door to two familiar faces. Sweet smells also accompanied the duo, Clark stood there holding a bag contain food. He took the bag, barely even pausing to sit wolfed down almost in one bite. "I'm starved" he said. "Is there any chance of more?"

"Sure" remarked Connor flippantly. "I'll just go slaughter a nearby Elephant", a smile etched across unchanging features.

"Lead on" Indiana said and fell into step beside them so that they took over the whole hallway.

Henry Jones Junior had succeeded in eating his third helping and showed signs of slowing down.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked. "Must have worms or something?"

"I'm not sure" said Clark. "But Connor knows I think"

Looking at the immortal, Indiana didn't even have to speak before the answer came. "You used hidden reserves" said the immortal. "Not just physical or emotional, but part psychic. My guess is that hanging around all those weird relics has changed you slightly"

He became worried at this, "How? I'm not going sprout multiple heads or anything?"

Sharing the archaeologists concern, for Connor had gone through something similar after reading the Sixth Ring. "Not likely, but you are able to tap basic psychic reserves allowing you increment your physical abilities, strength, stamina, pain tolerance that kind of thing" he began, "but it is limited and without training you easily exceed go too far and end up in a coma or kill yourself"

"Great"

"Just remember to have some kind of fuel backup if you feel overcome after doing so, dried food of some sort" cautioned Connor.

"Thanks", and although still feeling better was a little tired. "Is there anywhere you could store the device other than the BPRD?"

Connor thought about it for minute, "Not really, they're the most reliable. I could ask one of the Legacy Houses but I've never truly trusted them or thought them reliable". Indiana knew what Connor meant and let the issue go sure it would go into safe storage. Later that day Connor had sent a wire to the States to arrange for BPRD to pick up the device and hold it in one of their storage vaults. He walked back to the hotel to find Clark waiting outside. "Where's Indy?"

"Where do you think?" he answered, "Dr Langford went up to thank him, personally"

"Oh" replied the immortal bashfully. "Best leave them alone for a while". Neither really wanted to do anything except sit there and relax which they did for a majority of the day, reading the papers and watching the world go by. Almost four hours later a rather flushed archaeologist walked outside. None were in any hurry at the minute, they're flight did not leave until tomorrow morning, so they had another night here. Clark tapped his pockets, "I think I left my wallet in the hotel"

"Oh I've got to pay, again" groused Connor. "Where's my sword" remarked Connor playfully. "I'm gonna kill him" he said directing the remark at Clark, who looked at the coat on nearby chair. "Probably in your coat" he suggested, "Oh dear you didn't bring it" he mocked.

"Then I'll hurt you in more ways than you can imagine" jested the immortal, "I'll make you buy the drinks tonight"

"Hey, no fair" said Clark in mock anger. "I've seen you drink enough in one night to anaesthetise an Elephant! And if I spend that much Lois is gonna kill me!"

The three friends walked off laughing to the bar.


	3. The BPRD

**Chapter 3 – Cheyenne Mountain**

Connor (Note 1) reflected on some the more recent years of his life. The last fifty or so had gone quite slow, especially after the 1950's when most of the world had been mapped, catalogued and put into order. Before that his life had been full of wonder and adventure, but now it had taken a somewhat down turn, events wise at least. If anything boredom and ennui had set in.

During the year of 1995 for instance, what exactly had he done? Sure he'd taken the Quickening of the Immortal Mongol Khan and gained the power of illusion, but he'd never been after powers or special abilities; only to live in peace. _Sick of death of killing! _It was another senseless death that triggered the ennui, and a desire to be away from it all, and that was why he'd contacted the non-Quickening immortal Akharin to arrange a place for him in Sanctuary. While Connor had been packing Richie had visited, needing a few lessons on accessing the memories contained within Quickening which he had only been too glad to impart; but further delaying entry. (see my fic The Earth Clone Wars)

There had been another reason for entering Sanctuary, for another type of immortal known as Kane had been dogging Connor's heels for months during the day, and by night he was harangued by the others twin brother, the first vampire, Caine. He did not know what they wanted only that something special was contained within the Quickening of Nakano and while in Sanctuary he was determined to uncover it. Once Richie had left though, all his possessions had been placed in storage and the peace of Sanctuary had been somewhat illusory, as Connor was racked by terrible vivid dreams, huge alien spiders spoke in his dream, always asking the same question 'What do you want?'

He dreamt of Earth's distant past and that the immortals lived in a city called Zeist, of its ruler General Katana and of Earth's near future, that Connor had helped to create a shield to protect the planet from harmful Ultraviolet rays, all figments of his imagination - a dream which continued for many years until it was interrupted by the arrival of another immortal.

Able to remote view their location and he knew instantly Jacob Kell had tracked Connor's location. Cursing his stupidity, a new place was required, away from 'The Game'. To discover whatever limits he possessed and leaving an illusory simulacrum behind promptly made an escape.

Duncan was then captured by the Watchers and sent to Sanctuary, after his brief skirmish with the immortals that surrounded Kell and injected with stronger drugs, kept forcibly restrained until his rescue by friend and Watcher Joe Dawson. While in Sanctuary Duncan dreamt that the Earth was in chaos, of his wife, Anna, and of the Source; and was released a week later by his Watcher Joe. In desperation one night, and partially to cover his tracks, Connor challenged his clansman on a rooftop, knowing full well they were being watched. Using the power of illusion created another simulacrum, and the powers gained from Ramirez channelled Quickening into Duncan. Many knew the younger Highlander had no ability to access the memories gained in the Quickening and would be left alone.

Then secretly at the eleventh hour when Duncan was about to lose to Kell, something he couldn't allow, Connor appeared and challenged the evil immortal. Plus Connor also knew Duncan was not ready to take the amount of power into himself that Kell possessed, and took the immortals head. Then as all believed the elder Highlander dead vanished without a trace, refusing contact even from Duncan.

Shaken from his reverie as a cat rushes past the immortals feet and reached to pick it up the little creature which immediately began purring, drooling into Connor's hand. _Why can I never do that to women?_

**New York 2007 **

John Oldman drove off in the car with Sandy, having acquiesced to 'making a go' of things, although he'd only promised ten years, _it was a lie_ and knew it would be until the day she died.

"So who else have you been besides Jesus? Merlin? Gandalf?" she asked half seriously. Despite himself John smiled and pulled onto the freeway, enjoying the jibe. _How much could he tell her and so soon?_ _Perhaps that was why he'd chosen this life, her vitality and intelligence? _"Yes" he answered half heartedly trying to concentrate on the traffic.

"Are you okay?" Sandy inquired. "Is anything wrong?"

"Mmmmm….oh no" he replied. "You just got me thinking about the past that's all" and turned to look at her very briefly.

"Any particular time or moment?"

_Should he tell her about Buddha? _

"I was just thinking about studying with Buddha", said the immortal watching while she phrased her next question, nose wrinkling at the petrol fumes. "Were you Ananta?" she asked.

"You're far too quick" he retorted. "No I wasn't, that was someone else"

"Someone like you?"

The lorry in front began to slow down, again, "Ananta was different", yet despite immortality his patience was only finite. She reached across to hold his hand very briefly, giving it a little squeeze which he returned, "In what way?" _Traffic was quite bad this morning_ he mused silently and pulled into another lane.

"You probably don't want to know". They drove in silence for minute or so until traffic came to a standstill.

"You were thinking about Buddha a short while ago" she said bringing up the topic again, innately curious.

_Fire, tenacity and drive_, something he was lacking that had been replaced with _patience, acceptance and weariness_, _nothing was new anymore_. "Yes I was. Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked watching her for any signs, anything to indicate that she would take it badly.

"What could worse than being told you're the messiah" she laughed jokingly, her humour infectious. _Perhaps he would tell her, she was handling things so well_.

"You mentioned Buddha earlier. Well he was an alien called Ma'el", said the immortal.

"Now I know you're joking" she answered crossing her arms mockingly, still smiling.

"Actually I wasn't". John reached across brushing her leg noticing she did not pull away indicating she believed, at least in part. The thousands of years of experience almost allowed him to see thoughts form in her head, trying to understand that men created their own history, not gods, not aliens, men. Men who then deified each other, each tale being subsequently embellished upon century upon century, leaving more than enough room enough for aliens.

"You're serious? Honest to go…" and then she stopped herself realising the 'god' word would not be the most appropriate to someone who had been Jesus, "goodness alien from outer space". It was then he heard a bang from across the road and turned to look, "Yes he was". A huge lorry and trailer had ploughed into traffic on the opposite side and was heading in their direction.

"Get out!" John screamed knowing the impact would not be fatal, at least not for him at any rate. Using psychic reserves boosting reflexes to preternatural levels exited the pickup truck in a blur, looking over his shoulder saw that Sandy would not make it. A last gambit would be to shield her body using his.

Thrown twenty feet away to land on the grassy verge, battered and alive albeit bleeding profusely. The immortal got to shaky feet and saw Sandy lying ten feet away, eyes staring blankly into the sky. "No…..no!" he screamed, rushing to her side. John could sense a faint presence of life within her, but fading fast.

"Sandy! Sandy!"

Upon seeing the extent of her injuries knew it was hopeless. John could heal through the direction of internal energies but she was fading just too damn fast.

John closed his eyes to help concentrate the psychic energies, needing to direct the flow into the damaged cells, bolstering the healing process. _Life signs were getting stronger_, and slowly Sandy opened her eyes; partly down to the healing, but somehow he could sense it would be for the last time. "John, you really can heal like Jesus"

"Shhhh…don't speak" he urged.

"I'm not going to make it" she whispered, her voice fading. "I love you John"

"I know", and then he felt her vital signs plummet, past even his ability to aid.

"No. Don't go. Fight it" he pleaded directing prayers to the sky and to the gods that had long since left this planet. But his prayers would remain unanswered. John grabbed her hand wishing to soothe her as best as possible.

"Could you have loved me?" she asked.

"Yes, of course" he said and sensed the spark of life fade. "Damn" he cursed, tears falling freely from his eyes.

John wondered if he could have really loved her, but just perhaps, just perhaps he already did.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and someone say, "She's dead John. I am sorry".

"Methos?" asked John, squinting through rapidly drying blood, the familiar face full of compassion.

"People call me Adam now", he said reaching out with a hand to help the other immortal to stand. John took the hand, rising slowly, wearily, eyes full of anger that life could be so hard. "Come with me, quickly!" He said leading John to a waiting car.

"Are you okay buddy?" urged the passenger. "Do you want an ambulance?"

"Not now Joe!" shouted Adam driving the car through the hole left by the truck and the devastation went in the opposite direction. Joe watched as the rest of Johns' wounds healed but without any telltale streaks of lightning under the skin. "Is he?"

"No Joe, he isn't". Methos drove in silence. Joe listened as Methos explained some of Johns' story, _the 'old man' was obviously leaving things out_, and was also a lot older than Methos which gave him a perverse kind of pleasure-_someone for even him to look up to_. "Okay Methos. Now tell me what you're missing out, the real story" he challenged, fairly sure the oldest immortal would spout a lot of hokum or say nothing.

"That's not for me to tell, you know better than to ask. Only John can tell you that" he replied evenly, who was glad to see they were approaching gates. "Later Joe, besides we're almost there" he said.

The Watcher looked horrified, "What is this place?" he uttered worriedly, "Some kind of Government agency?" Joe stammered.

Wondering whether to be facetious or not and decided it wouldn't be worth it. "This is the BPRD" he remarked.

"What the hell does that stand for?"

Ignoring his mortal friend, Adam watched John, who seemed to be showing signs of coming out of his melancholy. He walked up to the side of the gate as the intercom machine slide away like out of a 'batman' film to reveal another below. Careful to hold still, the machine took a retinal scan and slid back automatically as if it was never there. Quickly getting back into the car he drove through the gates that were opening.

"What the?" exclaimed Joe. "This is Government isn't it, '_old man'_? Oh wait I can't call you that anymore!" Joe Dawson laughed, "Heh, heh, heh, heh". John laughed in the back seat. "So what's the secret? Where are we?" inquired John, formerly Jesus over two thousand years ago and known as many other names throughout history. The trio walked through the doors into a huge lobby area.

"This" said Methos grandly raising arms to take in the whole spectacle, "this is the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defence" he said smirking, nodding at the guard on 'reception' who issued a warning.

"Watch your elbows" he said as the floor began its slow descent like a lift. Joe and John seemed a little bit surprised.

"I take the name is explanatory" inquired John.

"Quite" said Methos as though that answered everything.

"What!?" exclaimed Joe, sourly. "For those of us who missed something, what do they do?" They walked down another corridor which led to another room, which was full of books, four of which were on stands facing an aquarium. "Well are you going answer me or not?" shouted Joe leaning on his cane.

"Remember all those tales of things going 'bump' in the night?" said an unknown voice. "Well we 'bump' back if you will"

"Who is that? Where is that voice coming from?" asked the exasperated voice of the Head Watcher in the US. Joe could see that the former Horseman was smiling obviously enjoying some joke. "You gonna tell me what's going on?" he grouched.

"Let me introduce you to Abe Sapien" said Methos good-naturedly watching Joe jump when the merman came to the tank window.

"What the hell is that!?"

"Charming" chirped the merman sarcastically.

"Joe!" he shouted. "Don't be rude. More things in heaven and earth" he said gently chastising his friend, knowing what questions Joe would pose next, Mac, Ahriman. It was almost like reading a book. He sighed. The Watcher did not know what to make of things. "This is one strange place alright" said Joe looking at the place in awe. _It was almost like leading a child_ thought Methos, "Like Abe said Joe. Whenever something supernatural comes our way we fight back, as best we're able"

"Wait a minute" said Joe, temper beginning to fray. "When Mac was fighting that Persian demon, Ahriman. You could've done something about it"

"Yes and no" remarked Adam, formerly the worlds' oldest man who could tell Joe was beginning to get angrier.

"What the hell does that mean? Mac disappears for a year and you had a solution all along!" he shouted.

"No Joe, we did not have a solution" he replied calmly waiting for someone to spoil the half truth; never expecting it to be Abe.

"That's not quite true" admonished the merman, "now is it?"

Joe was becoming truly infuriated, his face was red and sometimes he really disliked Methos, _secretive son of a bitch_. "Even he won't cover your lies! Well?"

"What do you want to know Joe!" Methos shouted back. "We could've tried to banish Ahriman but at the cost of possibly summoning something far nastier".

"You could've tried!" he shouted again, although he was wondering what the 'far nastier' comment meant. It was the merman who came to rescue in the end, "We did actually" he answered only to have Joe silence him with a gesture.

"Stay out of this" shouted Joe. "Tell me what happened!"

"Remember I mentioned about something far nastier. Well it came through"

"Oh what was it? Demon? What?" shouted the exasperated Watcher leaning on his cane for support.

"Let me put it this way, It made Ahriman pale in comparison"

"Is this true?" Joe asked looking at Abe again.

"Quite, I'm afraid"

"Really?" inquired Joe, his anger deflating all of a sudden like a burst balloon.

The Elder immortal who had been silent until now, posed a question, "Ogdru Jahad?"

"Put up quite a fight, at least the part that came through" piped in Abe, watching as Methos turned the pages on the books. "Thank you" he said.

"You're reading these?" asked Joe in awe, "All at the same time?"

"You're being rude again. It may surprise you Joe, but Abe is highly intelligent and very, very psychic"

"I'm sorry. Guess I must be a little bit cranky today"

"You're also being very insensitive Joe, as John just lost someone very close today"

"I'm sorry. I seem to be making an idiot of myself"

"Mmmmmm" said the oldest Quickening immortal, and then looked at Abe, "Meet you with the others in five minutes". John watched a guard open a huge steel door almost three feet thick and wondered what it was supposed to keep out, or was it in. "You'll meet the rest of us shortly" said Methos. "Now Joe, please keep a civil tongue in your head. Some of us here are not as forgiving as me"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you keep quiet and listen" answered John tartly, who wondered why Methos was friends with Joe_, there must be a reason_, he seemed decent enough just prone to outburst. But then again both had had years of practice, eyes widening in surprise at seeing Connor Macleod

"Something is going on?" stated the immortal Cro-Magnon.

"Yeah, we're waiting for the Air Force to arrive" said Connor. "A few years ago I helped an archaeologist friend of mine to find a ring device", knowing full well it had been almost fifty years since he, Indiana, Kal-El and had found the device. "Apparently they insist on being here before we get it working, apparently they had one but could never make it work, thus Project Stargate was abandoned" remarked Connor, suspecting the Air Force were lying, somewhere.

"Wait a minute" said Joe. "Mac said he killed you" remarked Joe pointing at Connor. The Eldest Macloed looked at Joe, one that was devoid of warmth, completely cold. "Sit down Joe. There's a lot you don't understand and quite frankly we're not explaining" he remarked.

"No way! Someone wanna tell me what's going on?" Connor looked at the Watcher.

He had never been very keen on them, ever. "I believe I you told to sit down and shut up. We're not going to hurt you, but there are things going on and we require some time to relax - not you creating tension that is on a knife edge already"

"But…."

"Not buts, Watcher. Methos let you in on this for some reason known to him and I trust him implicitly"

"Not if you knew as much about him as I did" retorted Joe realising he had said the wrong thing already; _knowing he should have dropped the issue, what was up to him today? _Methos and John both shook their heads as the Watchers behaviour, which was fairly abysmal today.

"If you're referring to the Horseman incident and the history therein, we already know far more than you Watchers ever will. Now sit, or leave" said Connor, pushing a chair towards Joe with a foot. "You're among friends, stop being confrontational". Joe's jaw dropped at this point as out walked Hellboy all six feet plus, despite ties with the other Branch of the Watchers.

"What's the racket? I was trying to sleep?" grouched the demon.

"We gave up once we heard your snoring" jibed Connor.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny" remarked HB, who scooped up a cat that had escaped from his room. "Who are these people?"

"I'll introduce everyone in a moment" replied Methos.

Colonel Jack O'Neill (note 2) was on his way to a secret Government facility called the BPRD, the reports were fairly scant on what they did, _wouldn't be the first time_ the different branches of the government created lots of covert agencies which most of the time seemed to do the same thing. _If only they could work together_ O'Neill sighed. He wasn't actually expecting anything to come of this, or for it to be a working Stargate but they had to sure. Sitting alongside were Captain Samantha Carter and an archaeologist Daniel Jackson. Jack began to hum punctuated by intermittent singing of a Beatles tune, _love, love me do_.

"Jack" moaned Daniel, noticing that he was oblivious to the remark. "Jack" repeated the voice of Daniel Jackson irritably, "Do you know how annoying that is?" he remarked. They watched the car go through the open gates and pulled to a stop at the main entrance.

"Oh for crying out loud" Jack moaned, "Can't a guy sing anymore?"

Sam took the brief silence to enter into the conversation, "Perhaps something a little more modern sir?" to which her superior officer pulled a face obviously trying to wrack his brains for something more appropriate and failed abysmally. "Such as" he inquired, "I'll consider taking requests, Kylie perhaps?"

"I don't know? Anything but the Beatles"; Daniel knew that was the wrong thing to say as it would only urge Jack on.

"Well at least it wasn't Buddy Holly" Sam remarked sarcastically.

Jack snipped back smiling, "Don't give me ideas"

"Well we're here at last" stated Daniel, thankful Jack had stopped singing.

"At least I didn't try to discuss quantum physics" Jack baited, as only General Hammond knew about his Ph'd in Astrophysics under an assumed name so it was untraceable to the Special Forces officer. "Quite a small building" noted Daniel absently as he got out of the car. "Pity Teal'c couldn't be here", thought the archaeologist wistfully, but Teal'c would be out of the infirmary tomorrow, _hopefully. _They walked through the doors, which were held open by Daniel; and all looked at the male receptionist. "Step back please" he asked politely.

"Oh, erm, sorry" said the archaeologist bashfully.

"Mind your elbows" said the receptionist, their faces registering shock as the floor began to descend.

O'Neill felt his interest peak, "Well, bet you didn't expect that, eh Danny boy?" Smiling broadly he looked at Daniel who replied somewhat sheepishly.

"Not, really, no"

"It's quite amazing, sir, really" remarked Samantha.

They saw how large the complex really was, nothing compared to Cheyenne Mountain, but grand nevertheless. Also visible were other platforms moving up, or down, shifting cargo to or from a destination. The ground got closer, and closer, other similar such lift platforms ascending and descending. They stepped off the platform only to be met by an agent in a suit.

"Follow me please" he said. They walked down a corridor and through a room with a huge water tank in it. "What's that for?" asked Jack sarcastically, "Jaws?"

The agent merely smiled. "I am not allowed to say sir, but you'll see soon enough", as a huge steel door was opened for them. Jack could smell Mexican food, either Chilli or something else. "Great, who ordered out for Taco's?"

Several people were sitting around a table, all looked human except two. One was some kind of Merman and the other a huge red demon type creature with stubs for horns. "What the?" exclaimed Daniel.

"There's something you don't see every day!" said Jack. "Any chance of seeing the item?" inquired O'Neill hoping the others would catch his lead. The thought had arisen about asking more questions but deciding against it, _they could wait_ besides a well placed call to the President would probably resolve all their problems. They were led away by a man with deep set eyes, casually dressed in white trainers. Large double doors were opened, and they found themselves in a large antechamber, which led to a corridor. Walking down a corridor Jack saw Daniel look on concernedly, eyes almost bulging out of his sockets.

"Something wrong Danny boy?"

Daniel stopped abruptly. "That's the Spear of Longinus" he said, "isn't it?" Connor Macleod smiled ruefully, saying nothing.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

The immortal replied, "I thought you were you telling me", looking at another artefact in the toughened glass, something he had re-stolen with another legendary archaeologist many years ago. Daniel leaned forward and touched the glass, "This is the Ark of Covenant" he said pointing at the artefact in question, recognising it from various drawings. "And that's a Lingam of Shiva"

"If you say so" remarked Connor noncommittally, although he could tell that no one was fooled by the act.

"Is there a particular reason so many occult artefacts are gathered in one place?"

"What no Excalibur?" inquired O'Neill sarcastically.

Connor tapped his fingers irritably on the glass, and despite having eternity it did nothing for his patience. "It's this way", and he began to walk noticing that none of his guests were following. "Are we going to be all day?" he asked. "'Cos I have a few errands to run"

"Daniel?" asked O'Neill, waiting for confirmation they could move on.

"Jack, no wait, this is important", and continued to stare at the artefacts. Sam knew what to do, and withdrew a small portable E-M scanner, designed to detect the amount of electromagnetic energy they gave off. It didn't look like anything special, a small handheld device about the size of a PDA.

"Well?" prompted O'Neill.

Connor walked towards them concerned they were doing something untoward. "What the hell is that?" He could see that they were obviously up to no good and walked in front of their device, placing a hand over it. "This way" he said in a tone that brooked no reproach.

"Come one kids" said O'Neill. "Let's go see the main event". He could see that Daniel was about to protest and raised a finger to prevent any altercation although a tell-tale look from Carter that spoke volumes.

The corridor seemed to continue almost forever, but Connor couldn't wait to get the Air Force out of the BPRD, _hopefully business as usual_; well as far as that went around here. He led them towards the archway, and inside was the ring shaped artefact – no one at the BPRD had any idea what it did, and hopefully all would be revealed. _Doubt that_, thought the immortal wryly.

Daniel on the other hand could not believe what he had just seen, _if they were real_ and having seen Sam's display, all the artefacts were giving off E-M energy at varying levels including their host who obviously could not be human,_ perhaps an Alteran?_ He mused silently. Perhaps when they returned to Cheyenne Mountain they might be able to make some sense of the data and perhaps persuade General Hammond to exert some pressure to get the artefacts moved here where they could be studied, safely. The Stargate seemed to be identical to theirs _wait, hang on a minute_, the symbols were different; _the symbols were different_!

"You better see this" said Daniel getting their attention. "The symbols"

Sam had only just noticed the symbols, what had caught her attention was the metal of the gate. It was quite shiny in a way that Naquadria wasn't, not that proved anything and so reaching into her bag retrieved another item, designed to test the metal, merely a preliminary test. Placing it against the metal, it beeped once. Quickly she put it away in her bag. Jack looked in her direction and she shook her head in a negative gesture hoping to indicate it was not Naquadria.

"What was that?" Asked Connor sharply, having heard a beeping sound but seeing no visible devices.

"Well?" inquired Jack, looking at both Sam and Daniel. "Can we have a little privacy?"

Connor was annoyed, but if they wanted to play their games, _let them_ and he stormed out with a parting comment. "Suit your self". Daniel fingered the symbols not recognising any of them, all foreign, resembling neither ancient Egyptian nor the Alteran language, but for all he knew it could be a big fake and just an interesting piece of modern art, though he severely doubted it. They would have to take it back with them for testing which is exactly what he told Jack.

"What 'bout you Sam?"

Samantha Carter looked at the metal again, "It certainly is not Naquadria, that's why it beeped. But I agree with Daniel without further testing we cannot be certain, other than a certain passing resemblance". Jack looked at the metal and the symbols, fairly sure it was not a conventional Stargate, and knew it would have to taken by to the SGC for further study, _that meant arranging transport. Well, _he thought, _Hammond is not going to be happy about that_.

"Okay" announced Jack. "Let's get this done" he said and reached for a mobile phone.

Ten minutes later Connor walked back in. "Are you done?" he asked sulkily. Jack watched their host, sharing grave misgivings about the man, _something about him_ and setting those thoughts aside. "For now" he replied verbally and mentally, waving the phone in his hand. "We're going to have to take that with us" he said pointing at the big donut, "I've just arranged transport"

"Really" commented Connor doubtfully. "We'll see about that" and walked out yet again. He returned an hour later looking even more moody. "Guess it's all yours", but deliberately neglected to tell them he would be accompanying the Air Force staff back to wherever they were going. Holding a secret smile inside, visible to no one – _we'll see. _

"Told 'ya" said Jack. "Is there anywhere to get a cup of tea around here?" inquired Jack.

Connor took them into a side room, and brought in some refreshments; feeling like a waiter, again; a disguise he had used during the Second World War to gather vital intelligence. _What was this all about_ he idly wondered, tempted to use his burgeoning abilities and knew they were not something to be abused or used frivolously. _He had eternity anyway, and could wait_. Jack heard Connor shut the door which was followed by a click. "Have we just been locked in?"

Almost an hour later they were all let out of their temporary prison cell as an Air Force helicopter had arrived, "Time to go" said Connor leading their guests outside.

"Is the Ring on its way to the surface too?" quizzed Colonel O'Neill.

"Of course, there is some bad news though"

"Oh?" O'Neill was getting concerned what the news could possibly be, possibly expecting the donut to be switched for another.

The immortal beamed, "Didn't I tell you?" he gloated having made a call to the Director of the FBI; who had subsequently made a series of phone calls. "I and two friends are coming with you".

Samantha Carter and Daniel looked a little concerned and sought confirmation from their Commanding Officer. "I don't think so" said Jack authoritatively.

"Already have confirmation as it is part of the condition for transport". O'Neill got the mobile from his pocket and made a call followed by a brief and heated conversation with General Hammond, who seemed to share his misgivings about the entire situation. "Guess we're on then", Jack grimaced about taking more civilians back to the SGC, more Non-Disclosure agreements. _Sheesh _he thought idly, _why can it not be plain sailing sometimes?_

The journey to Cheyenne Mountain took hours and with the three guests it felt like forever making it almost impossible for SG-1 to talk freely. But it did give Jack time to think, harbouring thoughts of retiring, again, but these only persisted for a short while; at least until the Stargate was activated and then he was itching to go through and explore new worlds. Connor had introduced two friends, Adam and John who both seemed to _have something about them_, something _odd_. Despite appearances he'd always been quite empathic, not in a psychic kind of way, but able to get a feel for people and places that probably stemmed back to his Special Forces days. The ability to quickly ascertain and pro's and cons of any situation and make a 'snap' decision for the best of the team. _Saved his and many others skins in times past, including SG-1. _Leaving their civilian guests in the canteen, Jack, Sam and Daniel made their way to the Meeting Room, having just briefly visited Teal'c in the Infirmary beforehand and who seemed to be almost back to normal in remarkable time.

"So let me get this straight" said General Hammond, "This gate was not built by either the Goa'uld, or the Ancients?" Daniel Jackson who had spent hours trying to translate the pictograms, with relatively little success, was actually totally stumped; for once in a long while. "At least from what I can see, it doesn't even resemble Ancient" he said, pausing to gather any remaining thoughts. "It's not another dialect. So it's a totally different language; sort of like comparing English to Sanskrit; it may have been built by someone else entirely"

Samantha Carter had been equally stymied, the metal had refused to give any of its secrets away, being denser than most materials built by the Ancients and lighter, behaving completely differently to Naquadria – but these were only the first, second and third round of tests; plenty more were available. "I am equally stumped" she began, and explained as basically as she could about her findings. "Although" she added, "it does not turn and we suspect we are able to dial coordinates similar to the Stargate; but we haven't tried yet without your permission"

General Hammond was concerned about this new 'Gate' or whatever it was. "Is there any indication about who built it?" Sam swallowed and saved the last 'nugget' of information for last. "My dating of the metal seems to indicate something potentially very interesting" she began pausing for effect. "This 'Gate' for want of a better word was built not millions of years ago like most things that the Ancients constructed, but billions and certainly goes a long way to support Daniel's theory about it pre-dating the Ancients"

Colonel O'Neill almost choked on his coffee, and managed to not cough it up all over the table in shock. "Billions?" he asked. "Could this be who the Ancients got their technology from?"

Daniel considered that idea for a minute, as did Sam. "If it is even a Stargate" said Daniel.

"We need to test it first" said Sam, "But if it is, then maybe the Ancients copied the technology and used it for their own purposes".

"Not time like the present. Let's get it hooked up and send a MALP through"

"Yes sir".

General Hammond was sitting at the table with their three guests, waiting for them to sign the Non-Disclosure agreement, but so far they had refused. "I cannot give you any information without your signing this bit of paper, despite your involvement in whatever the BPRD does" remarked Hammond, "you are in effect civilians and without your consent to abide by the rules herein you will be restricted to certain levels". Connor knew Adam felt the same way, seething; yet John seemed remarkably calm almost like a Zen Master in deep mediation. He was unsure whether to walk out but his burgeoning psychic senses screamed 'Stay' and deciding to trust them waited a minute before signing. He was eventually followed by John and Adam.

Glad that they had agreed to sign the documentation, took the papers and placed them in a pocket folder for filing. He knew such paperwork was a necessity but the administration part of the job completely bored him. "I'm glad that's concluded" he remarked and let his emotions clearly show relief. "Now" he began taking a breath, passing photos of the ring device among them, many of which were of the pictograms. "Do any of you know what the device does? Or how to translate the language into English". Over the centuries Adam had had a lot of time to practice certain physical and mental feats, having kept them secret for millennia to any but the closest of friends, veiling them from Cassandra. Even Duncan Macleod didn't suspect the former 'Horseman', but the younger Macleod had no psychic gifting at all which was probably the other reason Connor had killed Kell in the end not wanting to waste such power on someone who would never appreciate or tap into its potential. "I think we need to know what you do here first? And why you wanted that junk ring thing" he asked using his best acting skills trying to fool the General, who replied smoothly.

"That's classified".

"We've signed your Agreements" said John. "Surely that must mean we are entitled to some information?" Debating what to tell them, and certainly was not going to mention Project Stargate, at lease not yet and not without due reason, "Maybe if you could give me some information, anything at all?"

Adam had no idea what the object was, but knew what it resembled and suspected the Air Force was 'fishing' for information. John sat there thoughtfully having over the years read a lot of banned or lost texts - books long since thought to be legend. Like Connor and Methos, they all had some psychic abilities but before deciding to use them opted for the goodwill approach. "Perhaps if I told you the race that built it was very old, very old, predating human civilisation".

Acknowledging the information with a nod, "Go on" George prompted waiting for answer; suspecting they knew more than they were telling and had recently asked the President for more information regarding the BPRD; but as yet no information had been forthcoming. Not wanting to give them too much information, "As a race they are older than our world and roamed the universe when it was young." He let those comments sink in for a minute but decided against saying more otherwise there would be nothing to bargain with later. "At least from some of the arcane texts I've read" he said, pausing for effect.

Hammond was listening intently, not sure what to make of it; but it supported their conclusions of a race that predated the Ancients and possibly exceeded them in technology. The things they could learn from such a race, and if the intimation was right then the Ancients may well have copied their technology too judging by the Stargates spread across the galaxy. "Do you have any proof of this?"

John tapped his jacket and trouser pockets and smiled, "Not on me, guess the Necronomicon wouldn't fit".

George had, had enough; "This is no time for jokes" he bellowed watching John, expression unreadable like a poker player.

Adam, A.K.A Methos was somewhat of an expert in languages, and that sometimes meant he kept abreast of the best archaeologists and Linguists, and Daniel Jackson was considered one of the best if a bit 'kooky' by his peers but that was mainly because of some outlandish theories; ones both he and John knew were totally accurate. All either of them had to do was prove more adept than the human linguist.

Reaching out with his psychic senses, touched John's mind, who responded.

_What is it Methos?_

_I suggest we use our language skills to prove valuable here and learn what they are doing_

_A good, albeit risky idea_ sent John.

_Daniel is their linguist, so we jut need to be better than him. If two people with over twenty millennia cannot do that it's time to give up now_

John smiled mentally, allowing the emotion of amusement to be passed to Methos. _Worth a try, I'm a bit rusty on my Cro-Magnon though. _

"Let's just say both my self and Adam have an interest and languages and maybe able to help you, in return for knowing a little bit more"

General Hammond knew they were trying to 'weasel' their way in, but no one was likely to be better at languages than Daniel, especially after all the years in field. "We have the very best here already" he remarked.

The Immortal Cro-Magnon upped the ante a little more. "I doubt that". Connor just watched the exchange between Methos and John, knowing they had excluded him for some reason. If either thought they had something to offer then he would leave them to it happy to be away from here; wishing he'd never agreed to come in the first place.

Daniel knew there was something about the three guests, and had decided to unearth some of the old documentation, about the finding of this second ring, and the various other artefacts. So he made a request for the urgent delivery of all reports, files and findings relating to Occult treasures. Under normal circumstances these were marked as 'Classified', but with his high level clearance it managed to pay off; something for which he was thankful, plus the added impetus of General Hammond helped a great deal. It took only half a day for the documentation to arrive.

Blowing years of dust off the files, had set him off into a sneezing fit. After almost four hours of constant reading it was extremely interesting as in most cases the name of the famous archaeologist Henry Jones Junior, A.K.A Indiana Jones kept popping up. He had found the Ark of the Covenant which had been interred at Warehouse 51 which later became Area 51 along with other items; a Crystal Skull belonging to an alien that resembled an Asgard; in 1954 he had managed to locate a Lingam of Shiva, the Spear of Longinus; the legendary spear that had pierced Christ's side on the cross. _Wait a minute_ he thought, and backed up a bit. Ark of the Covenant, _how could it be in Area 51 and BPRD, unless one was a fake?_

He wrote a quick note for Sam to check out the warehouse at Area 51, hoping she could locate it and maybe prove if it was a fake or not. Daniel carried on reading and came across the name Hitler, as allegedly still being alive in the 1950's - while history recorded his death in 1945, a death which had turned the tide of war. It also mentioned the BPRD as being the sole combatant in what the Government labelled 'The Occult Wars'. The implications were huge, but also the fact that no one ever looked at these files anymore meant that most of the events had obviously been lost _or buried_ he thought alarmed. _Something no one wants to common knowledge in the Government_.

Before this was reported to both Jack, and General Hammond one more thing needed to be checked. The events surrounding the second ring, and there was a photo of the men involved. He leafed through the file, again the name Indiana Jones cropped up; _how did he find these things?_ Something was not right here, _of this he was sure_. Daniel turned back to the picture again and his blood ran cold. Next to the famed Archaeologist was a reporter called Clark Kent; but on the other side was a man called David Carruthers. Grabbing a magnifying glass he examined the photo more closely; Carruthers was a double for Connor Macleod. Hands trembling, Daniel checked again and there was no doubt in the archaeologists mind. Flicking back through the other photos, Carruthers was closely involved in the BPRD as was Doctor Jones, showing innumerable pictures of them both together. So far the files had not detailed what the acronym stood for.

Boiling a pot of coffee, he added three spoonfuls; sleep would be impossible now as exhaustion coupled with excitement kept his hands trembling. Taking a deep breath the archaeologist picked up the phone. "Jack". Hearing a bleary and very tired voice on the other end, hoped there was not too much shouting.

An irritated voice replied, "Couldn't this wait until mornin?'"

Trying to keep the excitement from his voice, "No it couldn't, can you get Sam and come to my office straight away?"

"Half an hour okay?"

Daniel resisted the urge to shout, "No it bloody well will not be okay!" But restraining himself took a lot of effort, "Can you make it ten minutes?"

The voice sighed, "Yep" and hung up.

Ten minutes later SGC was convened, Sam had a lab; Daniel had an office, of sorts anyway; although library would be a more appropriate word. Handing the magnifying glass to Jack and the photo of the second gate being discovered inquired, "What do you see?"

Colonel O'Neill wished for another hour in bed, _no cancel that make it, another five hours_. "Bunch'a people" he answered helpfully.

"Look to the right of man in the Fedora" suggested Daniel helpfully. Jack looked again at the picture, and tried squinting in case that might help. Realising it didn't remarked "Son of a", and he handed the glass to Sam. "Could be a relative?"

Daniel who had already thought of the possibility, "Maybe" he said waiting patiently for both Sam and Teal'c to finish.

"It couldn't be" said Sam, while the large Jaffa they called friend merely raised an eyebrow.

Daniel took another sip of coffee. "There is a way to check" he suggested.

Sam who could almost read Daniel's mind, "We could match the photo to the surveillance footage in the Conference Room"

"Look at the photo again" suggested Daniel, "The man Carruthers is holding the Ring, and the report also states that they were covered in some kind of oil, could we check fingerprints?"

Jack decided to opt for the practical approach, "Sure but we need some current prints, so unless he's been drinking coffee from plastic mugs, or…." He began.

Sam and Daniel finished it though, "Touched the table!" both exclaimed joyously. Jack had ordered Sam and Daniel to conduct whatever discreet tests they could, _discreet_ being the operative word while Hammond was briefed; who seemed less than chuffed at the idea of a man almost hundred years old walking around.

"Where are they now?" inquired George.

"I arranged for someone to show them to the mess hall, thought they might want something to eat while we dabbed for prints" said Colonel O'Neill wincing.

"Let me know what you find out". He walked off towards Sam's lab to find out the results. Daniel was literally on the edge of his seat, up and down, unable to contain his nervousness. "Well?"

"The picture gives up a 90 match" she said, "but considering how long ago it was taken that we even have that is remarkable" cautioned Captain Carter. She smiled as Jack walked in.

"Any news?"

"I was just telling Daniel and Teal'c that the photo match is not conclusive; but" she said turning the laptop towards them, "The fingerprint is another matter entirely". Sam pressed a couple of buttons and three fingerprints appeared. "The ones on the left" she said pointing, "Were taken from the Ring in 1945". A few more keys initiated the search again, just for her peace of mind really. "The three prints on the right were taken off the conference table today, and the computer is just making a match". The computer flashed a couple of times showing a match between two sets of prints. Colonel O'Neill forever one to play dumb, liked to make others see common sense. "So? What does that prove?"

Sam turned towards her commanding officer. "In itself not a lot other than one of the people here today was there when the Ring was discovered; and it implies that Connor Macleod, the man from the BPRD is David Carruthers". Glad that she had seen the obvious, it was clear how to solve the mystery once and for all.

"We need to get fingerprints from him directly, somehow" suggested Doctor Jackson. "But without being too obvious" he said pulling a face.

"That's why I sent them to the canteen", and waited for them to realise the subtlety of the plan. "And ordered that the Scotsman's cutlery, and things be brought directly here"

"Jack that's brilliant" said Daniel completely in awe.

Jack pushed his ear forward with his finger. "Can you say that again Danny boy, it's good to hear adulation once in a while". Daniel decided to tease Jack and whispered it so he would be unable to hear. All of SG-1 was sitting at the table with General Hammond, as were the three civilians. It was then the door opened and Teal'c walked in flanked by two armed airmen. John was up in an instant covering the distance faster than any human should be capable of. He struck both airmen who fell to the ground unconscious, grabbed and threw Teal'c, pinning the Jaffa to the ground without breaking a sweat.

"What is that doing here?" said Methos using mystical senses to search for other Goa'uld, yet somehow disappointed and relieved at the same time when he could not detect any.

"What the hell is going on here?" shouted General Hammond, his voice which could have at this moment overpowered nightclub speakers caused Connor to jump slightly. All of SG-1 were standing ready to intervene. "I really don't know General. Adam, you wanna fill me in on what' going on?" Connor inquired, in a slight Scottish brogue.

Standing ready to kill everyone in the room and certainly not trusting anyone who had anything to do the Goa'uld. "He's a Jaffa" said the immortal acidly. "Good job you're not Goa'uld" he said in warning, "Or Death would ride again". Connor shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of Death.

"Just how the hell would you know that?" asked General Hammond. "Please release Teal'c" he urged.

"Yeah, he gave up serving snakeheads years ago" Jack said reassuringly.

_What do you think? _Sent Methos.

_There are no other Goa'uld that I can sense_

_So much for our plan_ thought Methos worriedly. _Time for plan B_

_Quite _thought John and released Teal'c, "Sorry about that" he offered consolingly.

"That was sweet though" said O'Neill. "I've never seen anyone take down 'T' so fast". The two airmen were still quite unconscious and showed no sighs of stirring quite yet. Colonel O'Neill turned to John. "Will they be okay?" he inquired concerned.

"They'll be fine" said the immortal Cro-Magnon. "I can bring them round if you like?" he offered.

O'Neill shook his head. "Nah, they'll be fine". Tension was rife in the air, and liable to snap once more if anything went wrong.

"Hammond sat down in his chair. "I have some questions" he said forcefully. Jack raised a hand in the air, "Me too"

"How do you know about the Goa'uld?" inquired George irritably. "And I want answers"

"I read about them" said Methos evenly.

"And you?" he asked looking pointedly at John.

"The same"

"So you're going to lie to us?"

"All you've done Daniel is deceive us ever since we got here" fumed John.

"You've given us no reason to trust you"

"We've not lied to you either" suggested Connor attempting to be diplomatic hoping not to be a Government lab rat. Daniel was missing a part of the puzzle, if only he could figure it out; it was right in front of them. "Perhaps if you told us how you know of the Goa'uld?" Silence reigned supreme, and no one said a word until Daniel spoke again. "Why would you react so badly if you had only read about them"

"I don't think you're getting anywhere" said Connor helpfully.

It was then inspiration struck Daniel as a theory formed, dropping the file on the desk for effect and took a wild gamble. "Let's take a different tack" he said placing a photo of Clark Kent, Indiana Jones, and David Carruthers standing in the middle of the ring. "This is you in 1945" verbalised Daniel, watching Connor who showed absolutely no reaction at all. "This is a still taken from the surveillance camera in here today".

Leaning forward Connor looked at the photos briefly, "He was a handsome devil" remarked the immortal flippantly looking at the old black and white picture. "I can see where I get it" he smirked and got comfy in the chair again.

Face showing concern Daniel went for the next bit of evidence. "Now these" he said placing the fingerprints on the table. "Are from fingerprints taken directly off the ring", and putting down three more prints down, "these are from prints removed off this table and this final one" he said, pushing another final set of prints "Is taken off your utensils in the canteen, a perfect match" .

Connor who had been given irrefutable evidence before was not about to admit to anything, "So what? You telling me I was alive in 1945? Don't be ridiculous"

"We are serious" rebutted Colonel O'Neill. "It's not like we're gonna lock you up or anything" he said playfully.

"Heh, heh, heh" laughed Connor. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"Mmmmmmm" remarked the archaeologist wearily. "There is also a legend of a Macleod coming back to life again; maybe you know something about that?"

Scorn was evident in the immortals voice, "What's next Doctor Jackson, fairy tales with Elves and Goblins?" An hour later they were leaning against a coffee machine, in an empty corridor. All had looked for surveillance equipment, the nearest was in the next corridor. "I think the Chapp'ai is open and they're using it for travel" said Methos. The immortal Highlander was quite happy at the BPRD helping to fight off menaces that lurked in the shadows and was not about to give up and relinquish that he was anything but a normal human. "They've probably got bugs everywhere you know".

Methos had never been one for stupidity either, "That much is inevitable" he admitted. "I have always wanted to see the universe though and maybe get off this rock", _and away from the 'Game'_ he added silently. John who had always dreamt of seeing the stars too, and had talked about it over the campfires with other members of his tribe while roasting recently hunted Mammoth. "Somewhat of a dream of mine" he admitted, "For a very long time"

Connor who had wanted the same was under no illusions about the Government, lying and scheming and suspected it was the same across the world - people craved power; if only they knew how ephemeral it really was. "They have already proven themselves as duplicitous in my book" said Connor, "What makes you think they won't throw you in a lab for experimentation?"

Methos' face took on a worried look, "We have to give them something they want in return", and attempted to concoct a way out.

"I have a plan" whispered John. "We lead them to Ireland to uncover a certain grave". It was the Highlander who shook his head, having no idea to what they were referring. "I wish you'd stop speaking in riddles" he complained. Twenty minutes later they were escorted in by armed guards while the Air Force personnel traipsed back into the room while. Teal'c gave John a wide berth weary of his combat skills. Before they could say anything, just as they sat down, John spoke.

"Will you answer me these questions open and honestly?"

"Depends on what the question is?" answered Hammond.

"Are you using the Chapp'ai to travel to other worlds?"

"I am not at liberty to say".

The expression on the immortal Cro-Magnon was instantaneous, it dropped. "I need to know that I can trust you" he pleaded, "if I revealed the location of an alien grave on earth that may possess advanced technology"

"Where is this grave?"

Daniel who could see this was going to go around, and around intervened. "Okay the answer is yes we are using the Chapp'ai" he answered, raising a hand to silence any protests. "What's your next question?" General Hammond was not happy about this being admitted to, but over the years had learnt to trust Daniel's judgement and on many occasions his stepping in had proved advantageous in cutting through the usually bureaucracy.

"Are the Goa'uld still a threat?"

Colonel O'Neill answered this with a huge grin, almost like a Cheshire cat. "Not since we kicked their snakehead assess all the way across the galaxy". Methos and John sat there open mouthed, no idea what to say next as it was not quite the answer they were expecting. "They are not so much a threat as more of menace like toothache" said O'Neill by way of explanation.

"I would like to see the stars" remarked the Cro-Magnon, "and journey through the Chapp'ai" he said. "Would you allow me to join, or help you if I showed you the grave?"

"We have the very best men and women serving here", stated Hammond. "What can you hope to offer in exchange other than what you say?"

"Language expertise that your scholars can never get and years of experience"

"How do I know that we can trust you?" asked Methos.

"You can son".

John and Methos had debated the matter telepathically prior to leaving. So Methos and Connor had returned to the BPRD just in case the Air Force could not be trusted. The grave was proving difficult elusive to locate and this was their fifth stop so far. "For crying out loud, do you actually know where this place is?" moaned Colonel O'Neill. When he had buried Ma'El thousands of years ago the landscape had been very different then. "It's changed a lot since I was here last", and got out the 4 x 4, walking along the grass. "They have dwindled to almost nothing and are very difficult to sense nowadays". Closing his eyes once more tried to sense the location of the alien's place of rest.

"Are you talking about Ley Lines" asked the archaeologist curiously.

"They are in many mythologies" he answered absently, trying to 'feel' for the tomb for it was where lines crossed, what many called a nexus or juncture. "They were why Ma'El thought the Taelons could live peacefully with humanity"

"I've not heard of them before" said Samantha.

"Neither have I" remarked a stony faced Teal'c.

"Might not be alive anymore" suggested John. "Species might be long dead, although I doubt it"

"Maybe the Goa'uld destroyed them" suggested O'Neill. "You know possessed them" he said gesturing with hands.

"Hardly likely, the Taelons are made up of energy and possessed technology thousands of years more advanced than the Goa'uld"

"How do you know that?" asked Daniel, "And why would Ley-lines help the Taelons live with humanity?"

The immortal Cro-Magnon opened his eyes, "Long ago the land was alight with energy released from Ley-lines, it was like Blue Fire" he said, "Ma'El knew the Taelons would eventually run out of energy and another source would be necessary. He believed it was possible for them to exist on it. When the Ley-lines stopped flowing, well he too died proving that his theories were correct"

"You sound like you knew him?" fished Daniel.

"Here we are" said John finding the marker. He could sense it. "Time to dig", and pulled out a spade.

Hours later they had dug deep enough to see a cavern underneath, "Can you lower me down" asked Daniel excitedly. Dangling on the rope on the way down gave him time to ponder a few problems - John had talked like he had experienced the Goa'uld first hand and that he knew this alien Ma'El. _This cavern had to be thousands of years old_. As an experiment he asked for the torch in the Alteran language which miraculously appeared handed to him to by John. It made sense now this man was thousands of years old. Stopping abruptly Daniel turned to John. "Why didn't you tell me, us, that you're an Ancient?"

"That's because I'm not, not in the way you mean" he answered laughing.

"Okay, let me ask another question. How old are you?"

"Old enough to know you're fishing for information" he smiled, "And don't have a clue", laughed the immortal Cro-Magnon.

"But you are like Connor aren't you? Old?"

"Maybe" he answered. "We need to get down, this is only the antechamber more digging to come I'm afraid". Sam could almost piece Daniel's logic together, having alongside each other for many years helped a great deal. They now had more questions than they had started with. Teal'c had opted to stay above ground to pull them out, or let them know if anyone authorities should appear to cause them any problems. A large wall of stone stood before them. "Through there?" inquired Jack.

"Correct". Hitting the stone again with his spade sent bits of shrapnel flying around the cavern. After ten minutes the wall began to give and slowly collapsed inward. "That's better" he remarked in between fits of coughing. Wiping the sweat off his brow by using a sleeve, removed the debris and dust from his face. "I'll be glad of nice shower after this" he remarked walking through into the main chamber spotting the sarcophagus of Ma'El. "Hello old friend" said John patting the resting place of his friend and mentor. "You knew him didn't you?" asked Sam, "Personally?"

"Of course, I just hope you're ready for the secrets contained". Daniel gawped at the wall, looking at the religious figures contained within it. "This is amazing" he said pointing at each one in turn, "That's the Hindu god Shiva, is that Moses and the other Jesus?"

"Correct"

"How old are you?" he asked again. "When were you born?"

"I don't know when I was born" he answered.

"Oh come one!" shouted an exasperated Colonel O'Neill. "Everyone knows when they were born"

"When I was born writing hadn't been invented yet, and neither had any form of calendar. Everything I know I had to piece together through reading history and the sciences over thousands of years"

Jack almost choked. "Thousands of years"

"Through your deductions how old do you think you are?" asked Sam, "you must have made some kind of guess by now?"

"We used to hunt Mammoths, forever wary of the Saber-tooth Tigers" he said wistfully. "About 14,000 years ago, give a take a millennia or two". He waited for them to take that in. "Would that count as linguistic and combat experience?" he inquired in all seriousness, "As I would like to join you in travelling through the Chapp'ai".

"We call it a Stargate" prompted O'Neill.

"The things we could learn from you" said Daniel in awe.

"Would you help me to journey through the Stargate?"

"Why haven't you before now?" asked O'Neill.

"When we overthrew the Goa'uld Ra and his Jaffa I wanted to; but we knew it must be buried forever. So I held out hope I might one day it might see the stars for real"

"I don't see any technology" said Jack.

"Try opening the tomb" suggested Daniel and John simultaneously. He then turned and named all the religious figures on the wall. "Did you know that Buddha helped inspire Christianity?"

"Hardly" scoffed O'Neill.

"We know the Ancients technique of Ascension appeared like a hodgepodge of many religions"

"It's true" said John. "I hope you're not offended by the mural. I met Ma'El in India. He taught me, guided me on how to use my gifts. I'd thought about the ideas a great deal in the intervening centuries, and I found myself working as Carpenter in Nazareth in about 20BC. I walked to Galilee and other places with my wife Mary and the rest as they say is history; butchered and murdered by the Church". Jack liked to think that he was open-minded but surely this guy couldn't expect them to believe he was Jesus. "Oh come on Daniel, you can't seriously believe this nonsense?" he reasoned. "Maybe you should ask him to turn water into wine or walk on water"

"I wish I could turn water into wine it would certainly save myself a lot of money at a seven eleven" he said smiling. "But a Master of Sinanju did teach me to walk on water". He recalled the lessons with a certain fondness as every time the Master did not approve of the efforts pain was the result; and no one was able to inflict pain the way they did; without even leaving a mark. Using psychic reserves enhanced his strength and pushed the lid aside with ease, passing a device to Jack. "Will that do?"

"What is it?"

"All of Ma'El's research on humanity, another language for Daniel to learn, of the exposure of humanity to specially tailored virus to make us psychic like the Taelons". Daniel listened intently to what John said, and it was baffling. This ageless human had so much knowledge from which they could learn.

Leaving with their bounty Jack turned to him, "You just got us here to see if how we would react didn't cha?"

"I wasn't about to admit to what I did in a Government Fortress but somewhere like here I could disappear and not be seen quite easily"

"Worried that we might put you in lab and experiment on you?" mocked Jack.

"Still am, a little" he admitted. In fact it scared him immensely.

"Still want to join us and go through the Stargate?"

"Very much indeed" said John. "Man has dreamed of the stars since our very beginning"

"What does the BPRD stand for anyway?" asked Jack.

John told them. "There is no such thing as the paranormal though, is there?"

John smiled. "Are the Goa'uld still scavengers, stealing everything?"

"Sure are. Why?"

Deciding to give SG-1 something further to think on, "Has it perhaps never struck you as odd with that being the case, where they got all their religions and names from?"

"Are you suggesting that they took over existing religions? With existing gods?" inquired Daniel worriedly. "I've met several Gods and Angels of mythology that came to this world thousands of years ago" remarked John refusing to answer anymore questions on the journey back to the States, sitting in quiet contemplation all the way home.

Three months later John was off-world surveying the ancient ruins on a world near the distant edge of the Milky Way, having got there through the Stargate with the rest of SG-3. In the intervening time even Daniel had grown to respect the Ancient Immortals knowledge and wisdom, gift for science and linguistics. While on this world they discovered some kind of stone ruin with a hole in the middle that resembled a donut. He rested a hand on the surface which felt strangely warm to the touch. John reached out with his psychic essence and detected life, sentience and great intelligence. Taking a chance he issued a greeting.

"Hello" said the immortal Cro-Magnon.

"It has been a long time since I last spoke with a living being" replied the Guardian of Forever melodically.

"How long?" he inquired.

"Long before your world was formed"

Jack was walking through the shops in a nearby town with Sam, Daniel and a disguised Teal'c, if a hat counted as such. It was such a foray into normal life that they all savoured with no aliens trying to kill them, weird devices or any such nonsense. Having all enjoyed coffee at Starbuck's, with a spot of lunch thrown in they were all carefully rested, which was immediately cut short by the voice of Daniel.

"Jack you gotta see this". Stifling a 'for crying out loud', or 'leave it alone Daniel', stopping in his tracks and looked at whatever the archaeologist was viewing. Rubbing both eyes not quite believing what he was seeing, but Daniel appeared to be fascinated by two comics.

"Look" he enthused. "Can you believe it?" Even Sam seemed to be caught in the rapture and wonder. Before having chance to utter, 'Daniel wait', off he blundered into the comic shop. Holding back an order, they were civilians at this minute and he was not their commanding officer; just 'normal people' out in town. Walking into the shop after Sam who had even followed Daniel, Teal'c just stood there with a quizzical expression on his face, that O'Neill had had enough. Almost stomping after Daniel the leader of the Earth's crack defence against alien's stopped once more mouth agape.

Daniel held up two comics. "I knew that I had heard of Hellboy before and the BPRD" he said wafting the book in the air.

Sam stared in wonder, "Somebody must have leaked the information" she responded.

"Ya think?" retorted Jack and before either he or Sam could utter another syllable Daniel shouted the shop assistant.

"Excuse me?" he shouted. "But how long have both these comics been going?"

The shop assistant shouted back his response. All stood there somewhat dumfounded that the Hellboy comic had been going for years. Jack's response was immediate. "Daniel buy those comics, let's head back kiddies" he ordered.

"I thought we had decided not issue orders while out" corrected Daniel.

Sam came to Daniel's rescue before Jack had chance to speak. "Except when what you are holding is vitally important to a current investigation" she replied tactfully. For someone with a Ph'd he felt somewhat stupid, sure he'd been the only archaeologist to realise that pyramids were platforms to land alien spaceships on, he'd more or less mastered the Alteran language; for not realising the obvious well that was just plain stupid.

"Er….sorry" he said by way of apology and rushed towards the counter.

All of SG-1 was deep in conversation with George Hammond discussing their latest purchases at which point he stormed off towards his office to make a call to the President. "He didn't look happy" remarked Daniel.

"Indeed" remarked Teal'c who remained the personification of stoicism. "Not happy at all". Jack knew why too, the fact that a Top Secret Government operation had found its way into the press, even if what they knew was quite sketchy. In fact Colonel O'Neill could quite clearly hear a raised voice through the General's door which was supposedly sound proofed. Suddenly the alarms went off and the usual warning could be heard 'Unscheduled Off-World Activation' which was usually a weekly occurrence in the SGC and although sometimes an annoyance, it never grew old. All of SG-1 were on their feet immediately and rushed to the Gate-Room.

Walter shouted above the din, "Sir, no IDC Code. Shutting the Iris now" he shouted, all watching in horror as the iris failed to close and a humanoid Albino walked through. He seemed to be wearing some kind of long cloak with the hood up while holding a staff with a crystal at the top. The Prior smiled enigmatically.

"You too will know the perfection of Origin" he announced walking forward.

Connor Macleod was on his way to Cheyenne Mountain, accompanied by Hellboy. Methos and the others were currently unable to join them having embarked on another vampire hunting mission in the Alps. He disliked vampires immensely, the battle with Dracula still fresh in his mind even though it had happened over a century ago. Apparently the Air Force had called asking for their help, what with them specialising in certain types of phenomena. So far not one of them had been told anything but considering they were dealing with the Armed Forces it was not too surprising.

The smell of burning tobacco filled the van as Hellboy was smoking again, usually _those wretched _things made the immortal heave. The smell a constant reminder of burnt flesh in the early 19th Century when the Martians had invaded and all the unnecessary deaths they had caused, followed by the two World Wars which sometimes made the immortal wonder if mankind would ever find peace of any sort. After their return from Cheyenne Mountain Methos had told Connor everything about his encounters and subsequent rebellion against the Goa'uld almost five thousand years ago; but what had concerned the older immortal was that if mankind had encountered the aliens already during their travels through the Chapp'ai, then it might spur their return despite what the SGC had told them. Another war would eventually result and man might end up being enslaved this time.

It took another two hours to arrive at their destination. Getting out of the car with several agents they walked towards the airmen who were also armed. Led down more corridors to a room he knew well; the Conference Lounge.

"We asked for your help with a certain matter" remarked General Hammond, looking somewhat uncomfortable around Hellboy. General Hammond felt a little ill at ease with what resembled a demon in their midst and despite whatever they had encountered over the years and still had a somewhat Christian leaning when it came to his personal beliefs. But knowing that his personal feelings should not be effecting a potentially serious situation, they had called the BPRD who were supposedly experts in this type of paranormal phenomena.

"People always stare the first time but sometimes it gets on my nerves" he remarked lighting up a cigar.

"Sorry" he remarked. "It just takes a little bit of getting used to. We have a situation here as an unwanted guest seems ill inclined to return from whence he came and we seem unable to remove and hoped you could solve our problem". Even asking the request the left a sour taste in George's mouth, not being accustomed to asking for help _from a demon_ and yet so far Captain Carter had proved unable to find a way to negate the powers of the Prior.

Connor watched the General, acutely aware that there could be a deception and not wanting to fall victim to Government experimentation looked for any 'tells'; visual cues that poker players looked for the indicate lying. But there were none. "We'll do what we can" he assured General Hammond.

"Where is this visitor?"

"Back in the Gate Room"

Hellboy looked at Connor, exhaling smoke, "Let's get this done".

Both Connor and Hellboy waited for the huge steel door to open, and saw their adversary for the first time. "It seems you have outstayed your welcome. Time for you to leave" he said exhaling more smoke. Sometimes he felt some kind of Otherworld Bouncer or Demon Doorman of planet Earth, anything without a pass or invitation was forced to leave. The Prior just stood there observing Hellboy silently.

"I wish you'd stop smoking those damn things!" cursed Connor aloud.

Ignoring the immortal Highlander, he eyed the Prior warily. "I'm not joking" he said. "Get outta here" warned the demon, jerking a thumb in the direction of the Stargate.

The Prior waved his staff, crystal glowing briefly, as a wave of telekinetic energy picked up the immortal, throwing him at the wall with enough force to shatter the concrete. What he termed the 'lesser Quickening Immortals' would have suffered temporary death at this point - something he could never experience. The same telekinetic force picked up and threw Hellboy against another wall, causing the demon to grunt, although the immortal was not sure if it was pain or annoyance, but suspecting the latter. The demons' body was somewhat hardier than Connor's own and would not have to repair as many broken bones, _if any_ he added silently.

Both rose in tandem moving off at opposite angles in the hope that one could flank the staff wielder, a manoeuvre that showed obvious teamwork.

"It's gonna take a lot more than that to stop me, or him" remarked Hellboy threateningly. A blast of fire erupted from the staff enveloping Hellboy who just stood there shaking his head.

"I'm fireproof" he warned walking forward the Hand of Destruction had a strange molten glow about it, almost as though the hand itself was angry. A huge bolt of electricity erupted from the staff this time hitting Connor squarely in the chest which the immortal absorbed harmlessly.

The Prior was clearly becoming concerned as the two vast discharges had not harmed the two beings at all, shock even registering on his features.

Glad that bolt of electricity had not hit him. He still was not sure what would have happened if it had; although it probably wouldn't have killed or caused any permanent damage it sure would have hurt like hell. He watched another blast of telekinetic energy erupted from the staff slamming Connor against the wall breaking yet more bones and concrete, seeing the face of his friend register obvious pain and discomfort.

Taking the opportunity caused by the distraction of Connor screaming in pain; Hellboy slugged the Prior hard watching as the being impacted with the wall.

"Time to take your own medicine" cried the demon triumphantly. He walked towards the Prior who was struggling to rise; the serious fractures easily visible as bones were penetrating through skin, dents where none should be, contusions and who knew what else. Dropping the ever present staff to the floor Hellboy made an inhuman leap to retrieve the object, a leap that no human could ever hope to duplicate. He watched as any hopes were dashed as the object flew to the Priors hand while in mid-leap.

"Oh crap!" cursed the demon upon landing, waiting to be flung into another wall yet relieved when it didn't happen. The immortal was suddenly in front of him, his palm raised in a 'stop' gesture, as a shield formed before them absorbing the telekinetic energy. "What kept you?" asked Hellboy smiling at the dishevelled and battered immortal whose face was beginning to show signs of strain already.

"Had to bounce off a few walls before I felt at home" he retorted. The force field had been something that Jacob Kell had begun to master, knowledge which Connor had absorbed from the others Quickening. He could feel the Prior beginning overwhelm his defences, sweat beginning to bead his forehead and down his back, a sensation he had never relished. "Get him" whispered Connor "before he overpowers me"

"Gotcha" said Hellboy leaping only to end up looking up at the ceiling moments later at a gesture from their adversary.

He felt the Prior was concentrating all his energy on overpowering whatever meagre defences the immortal possessed and unable to hold back the torrent of force felt bones previously repaired re-fracture under the strain, blood flowing freely from innumerable wounds. Knees buckled under the pressure as wave after wave of pain rushed up his spine followed swiftly by nausea. His body was using every drop of energy and every last ounce of strength to hold off long enough for Hellboy to do what he did best; ground and pound. Skin split across his face, neck, chest and back and from these huge gashes blood poured forth, muscles usually hidden were now visible. Barrage after barrage of energy slipped through psychic defences. _The scary thing was if only a fraction of energy slipping through was causing this much damage, who knew what happen without any defences?_

It was then as the last defence shattered he felt it, similar to the connection Ramirez had taught that immortals have to all beings, but far deeper and far more intimate. It was a connection to all Existence and the energy to which it was a part. The 'Blue Fire' coursed through Connor veins and cells in a way rarely seen, defences suddenly smashed were resurrected, that although fragile to begin with were now more solid than Adamantium. It was accompanied by a Whirlwind inside the immortals head, as Connor not only heard and saw every thought of every being on planet Earth, human, non-human and animal alike. He could almost see the gossamer connection between all beings, like a silver strand of energy from Earth to the furthest stars. _It was dizzying_, and yet despite the Prior's attempts it could spend eternity and the shield would _never break_.

There was almost a soundless click and the universe spun on three different axis' all at once. Time seemed to slow, eventually coming to a complete halt. Looking left his body was standing there frozen in time like all the rest. There was a strange and almost irresistible pull as his 'second self' floated upward, leaving the confines of the Earth, gaining speed until the solar system passed by. Yet this 'second self' showed no signs of slowing, passing through stars without hindrance until a galaxy was visible in the background, followed by another, and then another. Normally this would have been extremely alarming but an odd supernatural calm had overtaken the immortal.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and Connor could no longer see stars, surrounded by a strange blue energy that resembled fire, recognising the sensation instantly _Quickening. _It was like a huge ocean only not any that he knew of. Instantly the knowledge jumped into his mind (note 3) _The Wellspring of all Existence_. What many ancient cultures on Earth and other planets had worshipped or catalogued as 'Dragon Lines', 'Ley-lines' or 'Blue Fire' this was the same thing.

A sudden burst of energy ejected Connor from Ocean of Blue Fire although everything was still frozen in time. Suddenly normal time resumed but so too did the connection but unable to hold the excess energy gained within, knew it must go somewhere, throwing a bolt of Blue Fire directly at the Prior.

Hellboy watched as several huge bolts of lightning erupted from the immortals hand, striking the Prior, who was thrown twenty feet backwards. Wasting no time jumped for staff, grabbing it triumphantly - only to find it unnecessary as there was a huge hole in the Priors chest, body burnt beyond all recognition.

"How'd the hell you do that?" asked Hellboy, never having seen Connor display such skills.

Slowly the feelings of overwhelming power faded as the immortal collapsed to the floor. His body instant response to heal the vast injuries it had recently sustained. He awoke in the Infirmary to both Hellboy and John standing over him like giants of mythology. "What happened?" he gasped, suddenly very thirsty. Almost as if the immortal Cro-Magnon knew his very thoughts a cup of water was placed in his shaking hands.

"Drink slowly" warned John. It felt like his throat was made of sandpaper and each gulp of water returned it to its more humanlike state.

"Thank you" he croaked.

"When you feel better we need to talk" said John looking at Hellboy. "We need to know what happened to you". Connor nodded while trying to firmly understand the events himself. It took almost two days later before he was up and around, finally mustering the energy for a shower which the made him feel somewhat more human. Daniel Jackson however had proved quite talkative, even informative. It had transpired that Hellboy had returned to the BPRD a day ago citing that 'He needed to make a report', and wondered whether Methos would show or wait for his version of events.

The SGC owed him and the BPRD for his actions, something that could perhaps be exploited. Maybe they could find out which Government agency had the remains of Kal-El which would need to be properly buried in a place that could never be exhumed. Connor left the Infirmary while no one was looking and made his way towards General Hammond's office, sure to avoid any suspicious looking soldiers. Once there he knocked.

"Come in". He opened the door and walked into the Generals office.

"General" remarked Connor affably.

"I didn't know you were out of bed already"

"I heal fast" answered Connor automatically.

"I can see that, especially when we reviewed the footage from the Gate Room. It's amazing you weren't more seriously hurt than you were".

He could use deception here, but on the grounds the Air Force had actually been completely straight themselves, guileless, he had decided not to lie. "I need a favour General. I need to know the whereabouts or which Government Agency has the remains of a friend of mine"

"What makes you think I can or will do such a thing?"

"My friend is an alien from another planet". General Hammond sat upright quite quickly. "But the problem is someone has exhumed the body from the grave and I don't know who"

"Does it matter, he's dead son. What can we hope to do for him now?"

"Give him the respect he deserves and let him rest in peace and not to be tool of scientists"

George looked at Connor and shook his head. "I really don't think I can do anything"

Another knock sounded at the door. "Come!" shouted Hammond. The rest of SG-1 walked in.

"Wondered where you were" said Jack. "Then we looked at the surveillance footage and guessed you might come here".

George looked at the _whatever he was _from the BPRD, certainly wasn't truly human as Carolyn Lams' scans had proved that. Some kind of highly developed human, able to heal almost instantly with amazingly complex DNA. Despite their best attempts they were unable to unravel it as it was just too complex, beyond the normal double helix. In fact they were awaiting the arrival of the Asgard to help. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

The immortal slammed a hand down on the table. "Kal-El helped me find that second Gate that you're all drooling over, without me you would have nothing!"

George had had quite enough. "He was a comic character son, he wasn't real", and wondered what other delusions this person maintained.

"Dammit! Clark may have been an alien but he was a real, honest to goodness caring person, that helped out humanity whenever he could very often having to make sacrifices that should never have been required. You have no idea how often he saved humanity from destruction! He was more human than the lot of you put together" shouted Connor in exasperation. "To think that I wanted to trust the Government again" he fumed and began to stand.

"Wait a minute" requested Daniel. "I for one think if what he is saying is true we certainly ought to help General if, as we know Hellboy to now be real perhaps we ought to prevent the body of another being used" said Daniel carefully choosing his next words, "unscrupulously"

Hammond looked at Daniel, who more often than not was the conscience of not just SG-1, but of the SGC as a whole; acting as a checking system to the morality of the military. One that had proved its worth a hundred times over, and trusting a senior and respected member of the base, regardless of the fact he was a civilian George decided to 'take a flyer'. "Okay. I'll see what I can do"

In the intervening time Connor went to the training room where some of SG-1 was training with a similar tattoo on his forehead to Teal'c, but older and somewhat smaller.

"That's not how we do it here Bra'tac the key is not to die during a mission".

"Your human ingenuity always astounds me O'Neill"

It was at this point that Connor walked in and looked for a weapon to practice with, as contrary to many other immortals he did now no longer always carry a sword on his person. Being at the BPRD afforded certain luxuries and challenges from other immortals were rare, for which the Elder Highlander was grateful. Deciding to go through some of the routines he'd gained from Kenjo, Connor ran through _Zanshin, _and _Kihon Happo _ignoring any of those watching.

Seeing a Bokken on the wall he picked it up and began to practice, slowly at first but gaining rhythm and power as the routine continued. It was the older one like Teal'c that interrupted his practice.

"Perhaps" he suggested "you would be better not doing such an action as it leaves you open?" Suppressing a groan he looked at the would-be sword master. "No it doesn't" he answered succinctly, "not if used properly". Watching in horror as the other man went to collect another Bokken, _surely he wasn't going to challenge him?_

It was then O'Neill chipped in, "Be careful he is one hundred and thirty nine?"

"I was one hundred and thirty three when we met O'Neill" Bra'tac answered. "And that was tne years ago".

Noticing that O'Neill became uncomfortable all of a sudden, "Er…right. Just don't let him fool you he moves like a thirty year old" he warned.

Smiling Connor set the Bokken down. "I don't think so" he said, noticing as Bra'tac continued to wield the weapon. "Put it down" asked the immortal nicely. "I don't want to fight you"

Bra'tac advanced. "Being unarmed is not so good when the other person holds the weapon is it?" he lectured, "Mmmmmm?"

Certainly not in the mood to be lectured to by someone far less experienced he began to walk out of the room, dodging at the last instant as an attack came in, using a _Muto Dori_ technique_,_ arm locking Bra'tac in mid-swing, stepping in to throw the Jaffa to the ground while disarming him in one smooth action.

"Most impressive" exclaimed the Jaffa from the ground. "If I was a century younger" he began.

"It would have made no difference" remarked Connor. All of the SGC had by now seen the powers he had displayed in beating the Prior, admitting his secret would make very little difference. "I was born in Glenfinnan over four hundred years ago"

Daniel stopped what he was doing, dumfounded. "You're like John" he exclaimed. "Immortal?"

"Similar but not the same" he answered.

"What's the difference?" asked Jack. "Immortal is the same by any other name"

"Maybe" replied Connor not convinced.

One week later he crept down the hallway, moving silently using the techniques known by the Ninja Master Kenjo that Connor had gained _de facto _by killing the other. By regulating his breathing his footfalls made barely a sound on the hard floor. Flitting from one corner to the other he moved silently with merely a light breeze to mark his passing, avoiding the peripheral vision of any guards. Another guard looked directly at Connor but did not see the immortal; another technique gained courtesy of the Masters of Sinanju taught to both Ninja and Shaolin hundreds of years ago. People described this kind of ability as mystical, others as a purely physical phenomena, both were right to a degree, it was the ability to appear insignificant, non-threatening and to blend into the background. By doing this he could walk right up to a guard until it was too late, for the guard that is.

Since he'd helped stop the Prior, General George Hammond had helped 'pull a few strings', and the President had gotten the information on the whereabouts of his friend Kal-El, who had been known to the rest of the world as Clark Kent. Now Connor knew the location, there was no way he'd le the remains of his friend languish under the scrutiny of some nefarious scientist; confident the action would have been reciprocated should their roles have been reversed.

A guard felt a breeze past by his face and then saw only darkness. Standing over the prone form of the agent he moved on, confronted by a steel door with some kind of electronic locking system. Without _Amanda_ and sophisticated tools this lock would never be breeched except by shorting it out and the immortal knew just how to do that. Placing a hand over the keypad, forced Quickening up from his _Hara_ into his arm, and hand and then into the fragile circuitry. Had there been anyone watching they would have seen electricity arced very briefly from his hand into the electronic keypad, which sparked and hissed and then fell finally dormant. Smoke issued from the burnt circuitry and the door swished open.

Stepping inside Connor found a man sitting on the bed. He was very average, but well toned wearing tracksuit trousers and a t-shirt. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"I could say the same for you" remarked the man. "You don't work for him do you?"

Feeling more perplexed by the second, the beginnings of anger were stirring within the immortal. "Who are you talking about?"

The man stood up and began to describe his jailor. In a flash of revelation, Connor remembered a name from the file George had given him. "You mean Doctor Morris?"

"That's the one"

"You're Michael Newman?"

"That's me" he replied jubilantly.

"Damn!" cursed the immortal. "There should be a room in here somewhere with a body in? A kind of morgue"

Michael looked at the stranger with the deep set eyes and hidden strength. "Next door on the left", watching as the other turned to leave. "But who are you?"

"Never mind"

"Will you help me escape?" asked Michael in desperation hoping it wasn't another one of Doctor Morris' elaborate tricks which he'd staged over the years in an attempt to teach obedience. "They've got my family" he pleaded. Ever since the last escape over eight years ago, and subsequent re-capture Doctor Morris had no longer remained the benevolent caretaker he once had, becoming almost a tyrant overnight. Holding his precious family hostage and threatening to kill them for any insubordination. Both Heather and Lisa had been harmed more than once by Doctor Morris in various ways to prove his willingness to cause them injury should any dereliction of duty ever arise.

Connor stopped dead in his tracks. "Where are they being held?"

"Another facility almost two hundred and fifty miles away"

"Do you know where?"

The engineered human sighed, the emotions as raw eight years on as though it was yesterday. If only he was allowed to live with his family, he'd do almost anything to keep them safe including to perform various services for his patrons; except killing needlessly. Sure various criminals like the 'Eggman' who were willing to murder innocent people deserved all they got, but indiscriminate killing was something Michael would never do under any circumstances.

Doctor Morris had ordered Michael to 'terminate' a certain US Congressman, as he had dealings with certain nefarious criminal factions, none of which had been named. Michael's argument had been why not just reveal certain dealings and let the media resolve the issue. This had resulted in the current stalemate with Doctor Morris something he knew would not last and may lead to something very unpleasant happening to either Lisa or Heather but being a man of certain principles was not easy.

"I'm allowed to visit once a month, but yes I know where it is".

Connor thought about leaving the Michael and escaping with Clark's body, but could not consciously walk away; a man and family in servitude to the Government. A plan formed. _Perhaps General Hammond would allow their transit through the Stargate? _Finally able to live their lives in peace, _yes_ thought the immortal, Clark would want this. "Show me where the body is and I will help you"

Michael walked out of the door and smelt burning circuitry, saw the unconscious guards who had obviously not managed to put up much of a fight. "You did all this?" he inquired awe-stuck. Silence greeted his question and no answer was forthcoming, and so he walked around the corner to the other room. The door was locked. Connor watched as Michael just pulled the door open like it was so much soft toffee, awe-struck with the others strength.

"They modelled you on him didn't they?"

Michael had no idea to what the other was referring and shook his head in non-comprehension. "You gonna tell me your name?"

"Connor"

It was definitely a morgue of sorts in which they stood, multiple draws all closed which could contain the body, or bodies plural. Closing his eyes Connor felt for any sign of outward difference between the bodies in the drawers; and felt something Kryptonian like but different and immediately realised it was Michael standing next to him.

"Are you going to stand there all day or shall I open a few drawers?"

"Shut up!" Connor snapped. Closing his eyes once again, tried to psychically sense the Kryptonian and began to 'remote view' the contents in each drawer. A whisper brushed across his thoughts and concentrating felt it again.

_Connor_

The immortal tried to 'zero in' on those thoughts suddenly realising that his friend was alive, and worse yet had been buried alive. The immortal cursed himself for a fool yet again.

_Connor help me! _Cried the mind of Kal-El. He walked to a drawer and opened it decisively. A black body bag was hastily unzipped to reveal the haggard features of his friend, mouth open in a soundless scream. _My friend what have done to you?_

He saw how most of the body had withered away leaving very little but skin and bones, but there was still life within. "Sorry old friend" he murmured.

"He's dead" said Michael.

"Whatever!" He grabbed the Kryptonian off the sled and slung the body over his shoulder. "Let's go!"

"What about my family" urged Michael, "Please Connor"

The need to help Kal-El had overpowered the need to help Michael and resisting the urge to groan; but he had made that decision to lend aid. Reaching for the phone Connor did the only thing he could from here, contacted the BPRD. A few murmured words and moments later Hellboy was on the other end.

"I need your help" said Connor. "Will you sneak out and rescue someone for me?"

"Sure" answered HB, "Whatever you need"

"Hang on" Connor said into the phone. "Where are your family being held?" he asked Michael, hearing angry tones from HB in the background and then relayed the information into the phone.

"I heard fine the first time" remarked Hellboy angrily. "Consider it done, we're only half hour away", then the line went dead.

Turning to walk out of the door he was struggling under the weight of the Kryptonian even though Kal-El was mostly skin and bones.

"Will my family be okay?" asked Michael. "You are going to help them?"

"Me personally, no" said Connor and watched Michael's crestfallen look, "Hellboy is going to do that"

Michael stood defiantly in the doorway. "Then you're not leaving with that" he said. "If I let you go Doc will kill them"

"You're family will be fine" he promised. "Hellboy is taking care of it"

Features were flushing and he was getting angry. "Like I'm supposed to believe he exists?" retorted Michael. "He's character in a comic book". He looked for a way out and short of knocking Michael unconscious it would prove difficult. Realising that choices were limited drew a knife from a pocket and dragged the knife across the palm of his hand. Noticing Michael's reaction as it the wound sealed shut without any bleeding. Had it been his clansman Duncan, the wound would have bled and healed almost immediately.

"Satisfied?" he remarked. "I'm not quite normal either".

Michael tried to control the shock, "How?" he asked. Seeing how Connor was labouring with the body offered to take the burden.

"We don't have time for this" the immortal grumbled. "Treat him like your family" he said passing over the weight that was Kal-El.

Both walked in silence down the corridor and finally emerged at the front door. None of the prone forms had regained consciousness and so they just stepped around them and kept going. He had to admire the look of the building, a Government facility contained within what appeared to be a seemingly normal building externally – in the middle of a city. In fact Connor had to admire the audacity of it. _Bloody Governments! _He thought. Getting into the car and starting the engine, revved it briefly as a sign for Michael to make his way over. Placing Clark reverently in the boot, and shutting it Connor drove off with Michael beside him.

Forty minutes later Connor got a call from Hellboy to say that Michaels' family was safe. He passed the phone to Michael to allow him to converse briefly with a now free family now free of Government hospitality.

"Where are we going anyway?" inquired Michael.

Smiling and feeling somewhat more alive than he had in a long time, "Cheyenne Mountain" he answered. Concern crossed the features of features of Michael, followed by worry. "That's a military complex. There's no way we'll be safe there"

"I have some friends there" he said, "You and your family will be safe and with a bit of luck they'll be able to relocate you somewhere where Doctor Morris can never hurt you"

"Like where?" he asked. "Outer space"

Eyes sparkling with mirth he turned to Michael. "Believe me you don't know the half of it". It took another hour for them to arrive at Cheyenne Mountain.

Once they had arrived armed Airman had shown Connor and Michael to a lift and then escorted both down a corridor. Despite the others assurances that these were "Good people", he remained somewhat sceptical and unconvinced. As soon as the door was opened, to see his wife and daughter alive and unharmed, the relief and gratitude showed, tears flowing freely from the engineered humans eyes. He hugged both excitedly. When all their tears had finally stopped, not just Michael's, but Lisa's and Heathers' too it was then he saw the so-called fictional character in the flesh, red flesh to be exact.

"I thought you were…." He began.

"I get that a lot" replied Hellboy. "Your family will be safe" he said echoing the immortals comments.

"Is John back yet?" asked Connor.

He strode forward, "Not yet, but I've put the recall order out for him to return. My name is General Hammond and I run this facility" he said looking at Michael who shook his hand affably. "I understand that you may want to relocate away from this Doctor Morris?"

Lisa was still holding Heather's and Michael's hand, and not about to let go for dear life. "Unless you can somehow magic us to another world, I doubt it" she said.

It was as though either some outside force or Providence took a hand in the next part of the proceedings as the alarms went off, "Unscheduled Off-World Activation".

"I have to go" said General Hammond who walked immediately out of the door. "Connor, please stay with our guests" he said firmly and was out of the door before any reprisals could be made. Michael and Lisa looked at one another, aware that Heather was now a young woman and probably very frightened, as were they all. "Is this for real?" asked Michael.

"Yes" answered Connor, who sat down at the able.

Placing a calming hand on Lisa's shoulder, "Don't worry" he soothed. "Everything will be fine", and then he walked over to Connor. "So who's the stiff you brought in with you?" "Kal-El"

Heather looked up sharply, as did Hellboy. "Are you telling me you brought Superman in here? I thought he was fictional?" he asked.

"Do you know how silly that sounds" Connor said rebuking the demon.

Feeling kind of stupid he sat down, "Point taken" replied Hellboy grumpily. "So what are we waiting for?"

"He's alive barely and I need John to heal Clark, if he can" remarked the immortal. "The only person that might be able to help is him"

Hammond returned to the room an hour later. "John is back and waiting for you in the infirmary".

"Lead the way" said Connor enthused, hoping that his friend may once more live. All trudged through a maze of tunnels and there waiting by the bedside was John accompanied by SG-1. Without even looking up remarked, "He's alive barely" he said removing a hand from the Kryptonians chest. "But not for long. He may be beyond my ability to heal" he cautioned Connor.

"Try" pleaded the Elder Highlander.

John cleared his mind of thoughts and placed one hand back on Kal-El's chest once more, concentrating the psychic essence on flowing into his arm, and hand and into the desiccated but far from lifeless body. He needed to draw the alien essence out of hiding within the recesses of Kryptonian sub-conscious, uniting mind and body once more; and only then could healing begin. For if mind and body were once again in communication, the body would hopefully start to repair itself.

Jack watched and felt the hairs on his arm slowly rise, the lights flickered and after a minute the fourteen thousand year old Cro-Magnon almost collapsed exhausted. The body looked somewhat fuller than it had been, and maybe slightly less grey, but still effectively lifeless. "It's too far gone" he murmured. "I need your help" he said to Connor.

A Scottish brogue came from his lips. "What cannae do man? I'm no healer"

"No you're not" replied John. "But your Quickening will give me the much needed extra power. Take my hand!" Connor gave the other immortal, once known as Jesus his hand, and felt the Quickening drawn from his body like a cosmic vacuum cleaner, feeling it course through John's body, which burnt and blackened in places, not designed to handle that much raw electromagnetic energy.

Jack grimaced but watched rapt by the spectacle. John's body was burnt in places as huge arcs of lightning erupted from the immortal Cro-Magnons fingertips into the inert body on the bed. Quickly the body became more human coloured, as muscles and tendons re-knit and healed under the influence of bona-fide healer, a man capable of miracles. The body began a coughing fit, gasped once and then the breathing steadied. Despite the seeming miracle he had just witnessed it was the overpowering smell of ozone and burnt flesh that stuck in his mind. "Neat" he remarked waving a hand to waft the smell away.

Dr Carolyn Lam watched rapt, as the Cro-Magnon's body immediately healed any damage, burnt skin sloughing off to be replaced by healthy tissue. It was the Connor whose cells somehow contained all the electromagnetic energy without damage. Even the Asgard had marvelled at the blood and skin samples.

Days later Clark was up and around albeit that his legs were a little bit shaky but under a strict eating plan by Doctor Lam, one he had instantly abandoned upon entering the canteen. Connor and Michael watched dumfounded as the alien had demolished his fifth full dinner, sixth sticky toffee dessert and at this minute showed no signs of slowing down.

"Don't you think you should slow down" cautioned Michael.

"He's right Clark, you need to rest".

In between mouthfuls of custard and toffee pudding, "I've not eaten in almost eight years or more and that damnable Doctor has been draining me slowly of life essence. He's not human"

Connor made immediate eye contact with his friend. "In what way?" he asked holding a hand in a 'stop' gesture so Clark would not interrupt. "Think about it and tell me in a couple of days".

Colonel Jack O'Neill stood by the side of the other 'Gate' originally retrieved by Connor, Indiana Jones and Kal-El almost sixty years ago, waiting for the go-ahead to enter wherever it led to. The other 'Gate' didn't revolve like the old one. But each of the strange symbols did light up, so in many ways it reminded Jack of the Alteran technology. All of a sudden all the symbols were lit and there was no energy discharge and to be honest he thought it all a bit of anti-climax really. However there was a portal and visible through it were huge buildings made of seemingly white stone of ancient Greek design. _Cool Olympus_ thought O'Neill.

"Let's go" he ordered and stepped through, followed by Teal'c, Vala, Cameron Mitchell, Vala, Carter and Daniel.

"Cool" Vala remarked. "But where are we?"

"I have no idea. Could be anywhere" Sam said in awe looking right and left. "Even the Asgard sensors are unable to track our location"

Daniel saw someone approaching and tried to attract the attention of the others. "Er….guys!" he shouted. "Someone is coming".

The 'someone' was wearing a Toga, tall with burnished skin like bronze and the physique of an athlete. The dark beard seemed to draw light into it, casting a shadow on the face like outer space.

"Well Fragile Creatures!" he boomed. "Welcome to Olympus"

"Who are you?" inquired Jack.

The being smiled, eyes shining with an inner light which seemed to cast all doubts aside, "Why I am Zeus, Kind of the Gods!"

Authors Notes

1. This my attempt to explain away some of the truly terrible Highlander films.

2. There are no Replicators in this universe as I disliked the idea intensely. They were just another version of the Borg from ST: TNG for me so Jack never got the promotion to General and therefore Hammond never left either.

3. The 'Blue Fire' to which I refer is nothing to do with Highlander the Source. The Blue fire is a reference to the energy from Mark Chadbourn novel Age of Misrule.

4. I chose to bring in Vala and Mitchell as their dynamic when mixed with Daniel's is actually quite interesting, but mostly funny; their almost continuing sparring being quite comical.

Only to make matters worse they're going to remake the original film Highlander. Grrrrrrr!


End file.
